Definition
by DrKCooper
Summary: The idea that, like Pamela Dolan, Jacqueline Carlyle might have ever hurt or made uncomfortable an employee is eating at her. She brings up the matter with Jane. The conversation goes somewhere unexpected as does the next few weeks as they deal with what was revealed. Set some time after "The Deep End" (03x04).
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Bold Type_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to Freeform. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

Author's note: This explains the absence of Pinstripe in "The Deep End" (03x04) and takes liberty with canon and the timeline. I'm not sure where it is going yet, but it will be continued. -dkc

**Definition**

"Oh, Jane? Do you have a moment?" Jacqueline's voice caught the writer's attention as she was passing by the editor's office.

Entering the propped open glass door, Jane smiled at the sight of Jacqueline nearly buried in proofs on the couch.

"Yes?" she asked.

Looking around at the mess, she motioned for Jane to close the door and to pull up one of the chairs that sat opposite her desk. Doing as suggested, Jane took a seat while wondering what this was about. She'd finished her investigative piece on Pamela Dolan and responded to all additional edits. Clearly if the proofs were before the editor-in-chief they were beyond that point.

"I want to ask you something that is rather delicate," Jacqueline said this with a troubled look on her face. Jane couldn't recall seeing the older woman so conflicted.

"Okay?" the brunette's eyebrows rose as she crossed her legs. She noted the woman's eyes follow her legs and then her own forehead furrow in frustration. This wasn't new. In fact, they had both been guilty of that very thing. A slight glance, an obvious act of ogling. It was neither a symptom of their friendship nor an impediment to it. Their professional relationship really was as much a friendship as it was a mentorship anymore. Perhaps this had been the case as far back as Jane revealing her BRCA status to her boss. When the glances became obvious, they both denied it to themselves and clearly each other.

"About Pamela Dolan," Jacqueline glanced down at her own hands.

Jane prepared herself for news that legal had balked or a witness had reneged.

"The story has had me thinking," she began. "About professionalism in the workplace, abuse of relationships on the part of superiors. That women can be guilty of the same abuses as men."

Another raised eyebrow of confusion begged for the blonde to continue.

"Jane, have I ever made you feel uncomfortable?" she asked with trepidation.

"You...?" the writer was dumbfounded. "I don't understand."

"I have been known from time to time to reach out a hand, offer words of personal support...invite you to my home."

Jacqueline made it clear she was referring to h er behavior specifically with Jane, nobody else. The numerous times Jacqueline had touched her played out in Jane's mind. Never had it been unwanted. Never had Jane felt uncomfortable or threatened. Far from it.

"Jacqueline, you are not Pamela Dolan. Your concern for..." she wanted to say employees, but recognized this was solely about her and couldn't stomach the idea of pretending they were talking about someone else. "Your concern for me does not compare."

They both knew concern wasn't the appropriate descriptor.

"I have touched you," Jacqueline appeared contrite.

Jane gulped. She knew what was being referred to. It was innocuous. Yet the gulp said otherwise. What if she had touched her in a different way? It still wouldn't have been unwanted on Jane's part. However, it was apparent Jacqueline felt regret over even the innocuous. Jacqueline the editor-in-chief felt regret, but did Jacqueline the woman?

"I can repeat that you aren't Pamela Dolan. Is that what you need to hear?" Jane heard the edge in her voice and hadn't expected it. Why was she being defensive?

"Jane..."

"You have held out a hand of support in moments of existential crisis. You have supported me through tough articles and personal indecision. You invited me to your home because of my actions. I blew up at you. I accused you of sharing nothing of you with us while wanting everything from us splashed on the pages of _Scarlet_. That wasn't you. That was on me. We were not alone in your home. You did not come on to me."

Her words felt sad as they exited her mouth. She _was_ sad. Jane felt a loss, a loss of something that hadn't been articulated by she or Jacqueline. She felt a loss of something that hadn't even happened. Her boss was not saying they could have no interaction going forward. But that's how this felt. Tears were threatening and this pissed her off. She would not cry about this. She definitely would not cry about this in front of Jacqueline. How would she explain it? Would she tell Jacqueline how much she needed their friendship? She would never tell her that her heart rate increased in those moments when a hand reached out to hold her own. What would she say?

"Physically coming on to someone is simpler, isn't it?" Jacqueline's voice sounded as conflicted as the battle raging within Jane felt.

"This is about prom," Jane stood and moved proofs from the other side of the couch so she could sit beside her editor. "I realize how ridiculous that sounded."

They were able to chuckle at the fact that they were grown women talking about prom. Kat's queer prom had been nothing like Jane's high school prom. There was still something innately ridiculous about grown women having attended a recent prom.

"It was unintentional," Jacqueline leaned back and looked at the ceiling as she said it.

"An inadvertent graze," Jane added.

"I haven't stopped thinking about it."

Jane's breath caught at what could be dual implications. What hadn't she stopped thinking about?

"And now you're worried because? The woman was abusing her models, Jacqueline. You accidentally grazed my boob. I do not see the correlation."

Finally taking her eyes from the ceiling of her office, Jacqueline glanced at the woman sitting next to her and she felt an unusual urge to stop censoring everything she said. Instead of being the woman who wore many hats, she wanted to be just Jacqueline. She wanted to talk about her feelings. She wanted to admit them aloud.

"You looked at me a certain way that night. I may not know what that particular look means on you, but after several decades of having men and women look at me that way, I thought I knew. Then the unfortunate incident happened," Jacqueline rolled her eyes.

"Boob graze," the writer helpfully pointed out.

"And then you were gone. You left early. Since then I have thought about it a fair amount, but this story has me reviewing everything I have ever done since I've been in a supervisory or managerial role and the only person I question my behavior with over the many years is you."

Jane reached out and placed a hand on an oddly bracelet-free wrist. She looked down at her hand after realizing how instinctual it was to reach out for Jacqueline like this. She would do the same with Kat and Sutton, but she was not the type to do so with others. Not with colleagues certainly. When she looked up, she caught Jacqueline's eyelids fluttering open; she, too, reacted to the touch.

"I had to leave early because I had begun hormone injections to harvest my eggs and that first round was scheduled for ten at night, if I remember correctly. Also, I couldn't drink. Dancing at a prom with my best friend and her boyfriend while sober was not as much fun as I thought it would be. My leaving had nothing to do with the things that happened between you and I that night," Jane refused to let go.

"Things?" Jacqueline's blue eyes held a tinge of mischief and something akin to hope.

Jane rolled her eyes and pulled back her hand so she could run all ten of her fingers through her hair as she weighed what to say.

"You can't have missed where my eyes were all night. You're far too perceptive for that," she shook her head as she remembered being unable to tear herself away from the tall blonde and her even taller date.

"Ah, yes," this brought a smile to the editor's face. "The kind of boob graze I was experiencing was from your eyes."

Jane groaned as she covered her face with her hands. She definitely caught herself multiple times that night trailing her eyes from the painted lips of her attractive boss down a splendidly long neck to the deep-V her shirt allowed, taking in the sight of the sides of two perfect breasts. Jacqueline had caught her as well. Hell, Sasha Velour probably noticed. She wasn't actively hiding it.

"You know that as your superior I should still be above the fray, right? You could entirely undress me with your eyes and it still would not be appropriate for me to do or say anything that might make you uncomfortable," the editor-in-chief hat was out of its box and nearly on Jacqueline's head when she reminded herself that she is but one person. It was okay to be herself. It was okay to be honest. "Jane."

Everything that had been said since Jacqueline had asked the writer into her office was boiled down into that single, weighted syllable.

"You have never and could never make me uncomfortable," Jane quietly spoke. "God, I can't believe I'm about to say this, but there is one thing I have liked about writing for Patrick. I miss the way you challenge me, yes. I miss the push-and-pull of writing for you. But what writing for Patrick has allowed me is interactions with you that aren't in the typical pattern of my pitching something, you following up, me writing, you editing and so on. Part of me thinks this is what it might have been like if I'd..."

Her thought trailed off. Jane was afraid she was saying too much and also afraid that this would make her boss the uncomfortable one.

"What, Jane?" this time it was Jacqueline's hand that reached for Jane's.

"If I'd met you in another time or place when I was just a woman interested in another woman who happened to be remarkable and captivating and—"

"Not your boss," Jacqueline finished the thought for her.

"Yes, though I suspect in that little world I'd be getting more time with you and in this one I am left missing you."

"This is not where I saw this conversation going," the editor smiled.

"Should I have shut up? You know me well enough by now to know sometimes you have to tell me to stop talking," Jane whined.

"No," Jacqueline clearly found Jane's self-doubt endearing. "Every word you speak to me is precious."

Jane's mind veered off for a moment, returning to the night of Kat's queer prom. Her nipples had definitely stiffened when Jacqueline touched her. Afterward she had convinced herself it was hormones, but she had actually been avoiding facing what she felt, what she had been feeling about the editor.

"What is it?" Jacqueline watched Jane in fascination. She loved seeing the wheels turning as her bright mind teased out the answers to any number of questions.

"Was my physical reaction obvious that night?" Jane wondered.

"If you mean your breath catching, yes. If you mean your hardened nipples, only after you stepped back and I saw them straining against your dress. I didn't, I mean, not with my..."

Jane smiled at a tongue-tied Jacqueline who couldn't seem to say aloud that her hand had not come in contact with the nipple of the breast she grazed.

"It's probably a good thing," Jane stopped Jacqueline.

Pursed lips and confounded eyes waited for Jane to explain herself. Professionalism resurfaced.

"You're right," the hat of editor-in-chief fell into place and Jane's eyes darted toward the profile of her boss. The subtle movement of a terribly tempting jawline revealed her clenching her teeth.

What could she say when Jacqueline was closing that door?

"How are the hormone treatments going?" Curveball.

Jane was unsure how to answer this question when it was obviously full of potholes. Jacqueline lost digital partially because of Jane's piece on Safford's healthcare policy hypocrisy. Not to mention Jane's egg freezing journey had appeared on the dot com under a shared byline with Ryan and at the direction of Patrick. It had been the first time Jane had written for Patrick and it was a shot across the bow that he would take whichever staff he wanted from Jacqueline's arsenal.

"Largely complete. Assuming I..." she had no idea how to say this without implying she was considering with Ryan or any man. "...have no desire to fertilize at this time."

"Oh." Jacqueline was genuinely stunned. When she and Jane has spoken about what needed to be done given her genetic disposition to cancer, Jane had never suggested she had any desire to get pregnant right now. Perhaps that had changed as she and Mr. Decker got closer. "I didn't realize the two of you wanted a child immediately."

Jane groaned.

"No, I would be doing it alone. I would have Sutton and Kat, of course. Ryan and I realized we weren't… I don't think I want to have a baby right now, but the option is there. Safford now covers all, well, you know," Jane left a lot unspoken. Having lost her digital editorship over it, Jacqueline needn't be reminded of what had been at stake. Not telling the blonde about she and Ryan realized they were better off being casual brought up the question of why. Jane didn't know the answer.

"Being a single parent is a huge undertaking," Jacqueline hummed, lost in thought. "I had a nanny and a husband and motherhood was still a juggling act in the early years. It still is, but I can share the responsibilities with Ian."

Jane wondered about Ian. She hadn't seen Mr. Jacqueline Carlyle around recently. He hadn't made an appearance in Paris or any of _Scarlet_'s recent events. There had been a hit piece in the _New York Post_ that said Jacqueline's fall would drag on—first digital, next print "and then her marriage?" Nobody around the office said anything about it, but they'd all seen it.

"I don't suppose discussing your ovaries is very professional of me, either," Jacqueline added.

"Not nearly as unprofessional as personally acquainting yourself with them would be," Jane spoke without thinking and her face turned crimson. "Oh my god, I do not know where that came from. I'm sorry, Jacq—"

She was cut off by a firm touch on her shoulder and an amused smile.

"Would it help if we set some boundaries? Topics that are to be avoided, information that shouldn't be shared?" Jacqueline felt Jane's discomfort and wanted to throw her a lifeline. However, she was amused and the comment itself caused a wave in her lower abdomen.

"Topic number one being my ovaries?" Jane rolled her eyes.

"I am interested in the steps you are taking with your health and, yes, even fertility," the twitch at the corner of Jacqueline's mouth as she mentioned fertility was suspicious but came with no explanation.

Jane disappeared into her thoughts, her sight line with Jacqueline gone, too.

"What are you thinking?" the editor wouldn't let her off the hook so easily.

Jacqueline wanted to reach out again and touch Jane, but she had been the one to suggest boundaries a mere moment ago. She would have to hold herself accountable.

"If you weren't editor-in-chief of one of the top women's magazines, if you weren't _my_ editor, if you weren't married, if there weren't an age gap," Jane paused, "would you look twice at me?"

Resolute blue eyes attached themselves to Jane as her mind played catch up.

"You're speaking of attraction?" Jacqueline did not want to mistakenly assume and make a fool of herself answering.

Jane nodded.

"I wouldn't need to look twice. Once was plenty," the editor's voice was soft and she did not immediately regret the admission.

Of course, Jane picked up on the tense that the editor used. They dealt in words. And Jacqueline would not have used 'was' without careful choosing.

"Was," Jane whispered.

"Mmm."

The sound was in the affirmative. Jacqueline wondered how she had gone from knowing she needed to hold herself accountable to stating her attraction.

Jane said nothing and the silence felt bigger than the glass-enclosed room they sat in. She looked everywhere but at Jacqueline. She needed to process what was being said without the temptation of taking it too far. It was then that she looked at the framed photos on the wall behind her boss's desk. She had never given them much consideration despite the number of times she had faced them. In those moments she was fully enmeshed in Jacqueline rather than anything else in the room.

"Is that?" she looked at a particular framed image and her mouth went instantly dry.

The blonde hair, in a twist and off a bare neck, was familiar. Jane had seen a pair of those earrings before. She was certain she had seen them in the fashion closet once and definitely on a certain editor on more than one occasion. And that shoulder. Jacqueline was known for rocking an off-the-shoulder dress. Except the woman in the photograph wasn't wearing an off-the-shoulder dress. Without further context, it appeared as if she was wearing nothing at all. Jane wanted badly to see what else that happening in the moment that image was made. It could have been a nude for the way Jane's heart was beating. Her eyes were memorizing every bit of skin. Her entire body was warm.

Jacqueline had been taking in every change in facial expression, every muscle movement as Jane swallowed and every lick of her lips. She said nothing.

"It's striking."

The young woman was afraid to look at the woman herself. Even when she had seen every pixel of the photograph, she couldn't face Jacqueline.

"Jane?" the gentle, compassionate and unbearably kind voice questioned.

"If you say another word, Jacqueline, those proofs are going to end up on the floor," Jane's voice was low, breathy.

"Please look at me," the editor turned her body perpendicular to the brunette's, her legs now on top of some of the proof sheets that had been on the couch between them. She placed a hand on Jane's knee and waited.

When those dark, always curious, brown eyes finally met Jacqueline's, the older woman was left breathless. They had shared many heated looks, denied, of course, but never had Jane looked at her with this level of desire.

"How long has that picture been there?" Jane asked through near-clenched teeth.

"Umm…" she wasn't expecting the question and had to think about it. "I believe I had all the photos replaced three months ago."

Jane thought about how many times she must have stood before that desk in the last three months. Many a time she was worried about her job or contemplating articles, but more often than not she was lost in Jacqueline. She'd become skilled at provoking her boss's interest in a way that made the blonde sit forward, revealing delicious cleavage. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed the photograph. It had to have appeared around the time she was nearing the breakup with Ben. After Paris. Her life anymore seemed to be delineated into life and life AP (after Paris).

"What is it?" Jacqueline could sense there was something holding Jane back and she wanted to know which thing it could be.

"Editor-in-chief, _my_ editor, married, age gap," Jane repeated what she asked Jacqueline about taking a second look at her.

"Can I worry about those things?" the blonde's hand moved from the writer's knee to her elbow.

"Jacq, there are lines I won't cross," Jane shook her head, the darkness of desire was being replaced by regret.

"That have nothing to do with my being fifty or the editor-in-chief of _Scarlet _magazine?"

Closing her eyes, Jane didn't have to nod or answer audibly.

"I understand," Jacqueline exhaled, removing her hand from Jane's elbow.

Standing from the couch, Jane took a long, hard look at the photograph again. She stood motionless. The editor again watched her take it in. Unbeknownst to Jane, Jacqueline had a soft smile on her face and a lump in her throat.

"Goodnight, Jacqueline," the writer spoke and moved for the door without ever looking back at her boss.

Jacqueline did not speak.

_To be continued_…


	2. Chapter 2

The three best friends were sitting in the courtyard outside the Steinem building drinking coffee and eating scones as they spent their lunch hour talking about Patrick's annoying team meetings that he felt were important enough to stop everything in the entire bullpen when Kat's phone notification caught her attention.

"Whoa!" she was floored.

"Which of your conquests might that be?" Sutton teased. "The campaign manager, I hope."

"No, actually, it's a friend of mine at the _Times_. She says they are running something tomorrow about Ian," her brow furrowed as she read the email.

"Jacqueline's Ian?" Sutton asked.

Jane thought back to Ian's behavior at Jacqueline's 10th anniversary party. She still found it unusual. He was hospitable, charming, even, but it all seemed forced. His behavior that night suggested his arm was being twisted into supporting Jacqueline. His wife, for her part, was also off. It was hard to tell what was causing the editor to clench her teeth given that she was celebrating a job that might be ripped away from her at any moment. Whatever was making them both behave oddly didn't appear to improve when she and Ian were standing away from the crowd and were no longer having to greet a who's who of New York's wealthy. That was a month ago. What had happened since?

"Oh, god, this can't be good timing-wise," Kat handed her phone over to Jane who was quickly furious as she stared at a story with Ian's smiling face atop the page and flowing prose about his business acumen, longtime marriage to the editor-in-chief of Safford's flagship publication and, quizzically, rumors of his extracurricular activities including a picture of him coming out of a brownstone with a rather young, rather blonde woman. The photo couldn't be misconstrued as Ian and the blonde who was certainly not his wife had their hands all over each other.

"What the fuck?" Jane said, angrily handing the phone over to Sutton who skimmed the summary and offered her own profane reaction. "What rumors?"

"Richard hasn't mentioned anything. He's Jacqueline's friend, not Ian's. She still would have mentioned if there were trouble in paradise. We would have heard had anything been printed, right?" Sutton's response and mention of paradise made Jane feel guilty. She hadn't told her friends about what had happened the night in Jacqueline's office. It was a moot point.

"The board is not going to like this extra attention to their editor-in-chief," Kat stated the obvious.

"No shit," the writer snapped.

"Somebody should warn her," Sutton said.

Jane heard this and assumed Sutton meant Richard should talk to Jacqueline. When she looked up and saw both of her friends looking at her, she knew better.

"Oh, no no no. Not me."

"Jane," Kat put a gentle hand on Jane's. "You're closer to her than we are."

"I'm not," Jane's mind kept returning to the conversation about their mutual attraction. It had been two weeks. Nothing had come of it and it was never mentioned again. "Not anymore."

"She needs to know, whether or not it will be easy to tell her," Sutton had received a text and was picking up her things to scurry off. "Oliver beckons."

"I really need to get back, too. Talk to her, Jane. She'll want to know this is coming."

The brunette let out a huff of air and pulled her own phone from her bag. She typed out a message to her nemesis and hit send.

...

"Jane!" Jacqueline appeared near the writer's desk, a smile on her face. "Walk with me, please. Andrew said you needed to speak with me."

Jane's stomach dropped. She was immediately nauseous. When she'd asked for a minute with her boss, she didn't anticipate it happening that very afternoon. She hadn't fully formulated a plan of what she would say about the _Times_ piece. She looked around the bullpen for Kate or Sutton and found neither. She was on her own. Standing from her desk, she followed the blonde in the direction of the stairwell.

"I need my steps," Jacqueline said over her shoulder, the explanation loud enough that it did not appear to be for Jane's benefit at all.

Sure enough, as soon as they were in the stairwell and had walked up a half flight, Jacqueline stopped, placed her hands behind her back and leaned her shoulders into the wall.

"What's up?" Jacqueline asked.

"Why are we...? Why does something have to be up?" Jane asked.

"Jane," blue eyes focused on her, laser focused. "You and I both know that when you need to speak to me or want something you barge past Andrew or stop me in the bullpen. When have you ever actually been placed on my schedule?"

Jane looked down, avoiding Jacqueline's penetrating glance, and began rocking on the balls of her feet. The memory surfaced of seeing her boss in her office, encircled by ten years of _Scarlet_ material, frustrated to the point of throwing something. She hated to do this to Jacqueline. She couldn't stand the thought of her being hurt.

"There's going to be a story in the _New York Times_ tomorrow about Ian," though the taller woman stood upright at hearing this, she was oddly ambivalent.

"I am aware," she explained. "They called and asked me for comment."

Jane was confused. Jacqueline clearly knew about the piece. She couldn't know about the personal hit or she would have been defensive.

"They did?" Jane was surprised.

"His business is doing well."

"Yes, there's that. You read it?" Jane let her tone imply that there was something else.

"No. What is _it_?" the blonde's brow furrowed and she once again leaned against the wall of the stairwell, this time she was doing it for support.

"He was photographed coming out of an upper east side brownstone with a woman. The speculation goes in the direction you might expect."

Jacqueline's jaw muscles tensed. The vein at the center-left of her forehead popped. Though she ran through the possibilities in silence, there was prolonged, unbearable noise in the ears of the messenger.

"Fuck," the editor said under her breath. It was the only thing Jacqueline spoke.

"I thought you should know," Jane looked at her feet again, avoiding seeing the emotions that continued to cycle across Jacqueline's beautiful, upset face.

"Yes, thank you," Jacqueline placed her thumb and finger on either side of the bridge of her nose. Jane allowed herself to watch the turmoil unfold. She noticed every shaky breath, the clenched fist, one tear slowly forging a path down a reddened cheek followed by several and the distinct lack of spoken words. It was killing her to watch this. She was mad at Ian and the newspaper and anybody else who had ever wronged this incredible woman.

"Jacq..."

When Jacqueline opened her eyes and dropped her hand, Jane fought her own emotions and could no longer stand seeing the blonde in pain. She could not stand the deep anger and sadness on Jacqueline's face. She pulled the taller woman into her arms and held her close. The editor went from seething to a semi-calm state in Jane's arms and this, in turn, made Jane less angry. She would eventually step back, offering Jane a broken smile.

"I need to warn Ian," she finally spoke. "God knows he doesn't deserve it. Our boys do. They don't need to be blindsided. He can explain to them why he is behaving this way not six weeks after telling them he loved their mother, but was no longer in love with her and thought it best he move out."

Jane was speechless. She now understood why she had found his demeanor at the anniversary party so odd. He dutifully escorted the woman of the hour to the party. As if he understood duty. And how could anyone fall out of love with Jacqueline? She wouldn't be Jane if she didn't also replay the conversation, the one she and Jacqueline had on the office couch. Jane hadn't been corrected when she mentioned the older woman's marriage. Why didn't Jacqueline say anything? Ian was the entire reason Jane walked away that night.

"I'm—" Jane was cut off decisively.

"Do _not_ say you are sorry. Anything but that."

Brown eyes glistened in the light of the stairwell. She had been fighting tears and was not about to lose that battle by saying the wrong thing. Those wet eyes looked to Jacqueline for any indication of what the right thing to say might be.

"God, I'm angry for you," she hissed instead of an apology.

"I guess we are done keeping up appearances," Jacqueline said referring to Ian. "I really should go call him."

Jane nodded and stepped out of the way to allow Jacqueline down the stairs. She reached out and touched Jacqueline's hand as she passed.

"Thank you," Jacqueline turned and said softly, her hand lingering briefly on Jane's.

Whether the editor was thanking Jane for the support or for warning her, the writer would never know. Jacqueline made her way down the stairs and disappeared through the door.

_To be continued_…


	3. Chapter 3

Jane stepped out of the elevator and was surprised to see the tall blonde approaching the lobby's coffee and juice bar. They hadn't spoken since Jane had warned her that the _New York Times_ story about Ian wouldn't be a puff piece, but would instead expose their broken marriage and his new love interest. Jane didn't know exactly what to say.

"A little late for coffee, isn't it?" Jane said as she approached.

Jacqueline turned around and a smile lit up her otherwise tired features.

"Whatever Jane would like put it on my card, too, Roy," the editor placed her credit card on the counter before turning back to look at the writer.

"A latte," Jane said to the barista before nodding at Jacqueline. "Thank you."

"Toiling away? A little late for coffee for you, too," Jacqueline observed.

"Patrick assigned me Alex's scraps. Mind numbing writing," Jane shrugged.

Neither said anything as they accepted their coffee. Instead of turning in the direction of the elevator, the blonde moved toward a seat and Jane followed.

"Would you like me to take you back?" the brunette sat down and blew on her coffee as she stared over her cup. The question was one she wasn't expecting and she didn't know the answer.

"I enjoyed writing with you," Jane said rather than directly respond.

Jacqueline raised one side of her mouth in a curious smile. She chose not to press.

"You are better than Alex's cast offs, Jane."

"Am I? It feels like Boy Wonder is punishing me for writing with you."

Jacqueline laughed at the nickname for Patrick.

"Is that what you all call him?" she stopped laughing and the writer thought about how nice it was to hear that laugh.

"Boy Wonder, Wunderkind, Honcho Numero Dos...Asshat."

There was that laugh again.

"He says really asinine things to the board. It takes a lot to keep my eyes from getting stuck in the back of my head when I'm rolling them that much," Jacqueline rarely spoke of Patrick's existence at _Scarle_t or how she felt about him personally.

Jane chuckled.

"Why are you here after hours?" she asked her boss.

"Where else would I be?" Jacqueline could be self-deprecating. "My mom is with the boys. I was told I didn't need to rush home."

Jane wondered what the woman who brought this powerhouse into the world was like. Like Jacqueline not pressing the matter of writing for her, Jane opted for a different question.

"How are they?" she asked of the boys.

"Resilient. Outwardly unbothered. Protective of each other and of me."

"And you?" Jane dared ask.

Jacqueline let out a breath and rolled her eyes to avoid letting loose the pooling tears. Jane moved forward and then stopped herself.

"I want to reach out and hold your hand, but there are eyes everywhere," she sighed in frustration.

Jacqueline surprised her when she stood abruptly and tossed her cup in the nearby trash.

"Shall we?" she asked a frozen Jane.

Responding quickly, the writer tossed her own cup and caught up to her boss as she headed to the elevators. Once the door was closed, Jacqueline placed a hand on Jane's. They stood like that as the elevator made its way back up to _Scarlet_'s floor.

"Jacqueline, if I had—" her hand was released as the doors opened and there stood Patrick.

"Jane! There you are. Could you send me your draft tonight? I'd like to take a look before we gather in the morning," he directed his attention at the writer before acknowledging the other woman. "Here late, Jacqueline? Have a good night."

He stepped past them into the elevator and once the doors closed both women groaned.

"I really don't like that man," Jane said what they were both thinking.

Jacqueline made her way to her office, looking back to make sure Jane was still following. The writer stopped in the doorway and stared at the couch.

"What I was going to say before... if I had known what had happened with Ian, when we sat here that night, I wouldn't have said what I did," she spoke softly and without looking at the blonde. Jacqueline ceased her movement and instead of rounding her desk she stopped to watch the young woman.

"Which part?" she asked Jane. "About my marriage or about how you feel or felt?"

"Feel."

Jane's clarification was important. She finally looked up at Jacqueline and wished she could carry the exhaustion that had taken over the woman's body.

"I guess both?" she wasn't sure about the latter.

Backtracking, the older woman came in front of her desk where she leaned against it and crossed her arms. Jacqueline looked at the writer who also was leaning, though in her case against the doorframe.

"You didn't know. Besides, I would prefer your unfiltered honesty."

"How are you really?" Jane took a step toward Jacqueline.

Dropping her arms, an uncharacteristic shrug came before an answer.

"It is what it is. I have to keep up appearances, be the mother the boys have always been able to lean on and see my life picked apart by people who have never even met me."

Blue eyes followed the movement of the brunette. When she reached Jacqueline, she glanced over her shoulder to ensure nobody was nearby. She touched Jacqueline's hand, offering concern, support and unending empathy.

"What do you need?" Jane asked.

"This." Those blue eyes gazed at their hands and then up at the shorter woman.

Before anything else was said, Jane enveloped the editor. Holding her like that took them both back to the moment in the stairwell when Jane had broken the news and held her boss against her own small frame.

Jacqueline sighed and relaxed against Jane. Her own hands found the small of Jane's back.

They stood like that in quiet peace until they heard Oliver's voice.

"Goodnight, Jax!" he was on his way through the bullpen when he spotted the women. He had a smile on his face.

The women pulled away slowly and Jane blushed. She didn't panic. Oliver was the most trustworthy man either of them knew. He truly loved Jacqueline and though he might say something to her about what he witnessed; he would never say a word to anyone else.

"When things have calmed down, can we revisit the conversation we had that night?" Jane asked bravely.

"Certainly," Jacqueline's soft smile was everything to Jane.

"I should get back to my article so Asshat can pick it apart by morning," Jane shook her head and Jacqueline chuckled.

"Don't let him hear you call him that."

Smirking, the writer brushed the blonde's hand before walking through the door.

_To be continued_…


	4. Chapter 4

Knocking had taken Jane's attention from the book she was engrossed in and the continued knocking was irritating her. She made her way to the door, angrily throwing it open and stopping dead in her tracks.

"Jacqueline?" Jane was shocked.

The blonde stood on the apartment's stoop, the very apartment Jacqueline had looked in Jane's employee file to find the address of despite knowing she could have sent a text or email and received an actual invitation from the woman. If ever there were something inappropriate it was this. Or maybe that ship sailed with the hugs in the office and the lingering brushing of hands.

"Hi."

Jane snapped out of her surprise and stepped aside to let Jacqueline in.

"I didn't know you knew where I lived. It's a bit of a trek to Brooklyn," she was still shocked enough to see the editor that her nerves hadn't taken over yet.

Jacqueline was fascinated by Jane's home. She noted titles on bookshelves and color choices from the wall to the throw on the couch. It was perfectly Jane. She noticed the bed in the main living space and saw the corner of another bed in an adjoining room that must have been the bedroom. She knew Sutton had moved out. In fact, she wouldn't be there if she thought she'd not have Jane to herself.

"Is everything okay?" Jane asked the highly distracted editor.

"I..." she started, turning to face the brunette. "I know things haven't calmed down and I don't want to rush you, but I was hoping we could talk, Jane."

It had only been a few days since the writer had asked if they could eventually resume their conversation about their feelings.

"We don't have to dive deep into it," Jacqueline noticed the panic rising in Jane.

"Would you like something to drink?" Jane had a wine glass out and headed to the kitchen to fetch whatever Jacqueline wanted.

"Whatever you are having."

When Jane returned with a wine glass and a second bottle of the wine she had been drinking, she found Jacqueline seated on the couch, sandals discarded on the floor, with her feet pulled up beneath her, her painted toes peeking out. Smiling, Jane refilled her own glass and filled the second. When she handed it to the blonde their hands touched and their eyes connected. Jane's breath hitched and Jacqueline's heart beat wildly against her ribs.

"Something like _that_..." Jacqueline held her glass with one hand while running her other through her tousled hair. "I'm not imagining it?"

"No, of course not."

Jane sat on the opposite side of the couch with her back against the arm. She held eye contact until it felt uncomfortable. Those painted toes kept catching her attention and she had to drag her thoughts from them.

"Why didn't you say anything that night?" Jane wondered. "Boss, married, age gap. Isn't that what I said? The obstacle, if we want to call it that, was your marriage and you didn't say anything other than asking if you could be the one to worry about it."

Jane drank her wine more out of the need to hide behind something than thirst or the calming of her nerves. She already had alcohol in her system. She watched the various expressions dance across Jacqueline's face and realized she has become skilled at interpreting most of them. There was one that she couldn't tease out and it bothered her. She hoped whatever Jacqueline said would explain it.

"It was very new, very raw," Jacqueline set her wine glass aside and entwined her fingers in her lap as she gave Jane every bit of her attention. "Honestly? I thought it would blow over. He had been upset with me since, well, Paris. I didn't realize that it was a symptom of an underlying disease in our marriage. I thought he wasn't happy that I didn't invite him to Paris. He simply wasn't happy."

Jane nodded and tried to imagine what she would do if in the older woman's shoes. Her recent relationships had been her longest. She couldn't comprehend a twenty-year love affair. It must have been very painful to hear her husband say he no longer was in love with her. She wished she could have been able to comfort Jacqueline.

"I would have been there for you," she found herself saying aloud.

"I know, Jane," Jacqueline leaned forward and reached for Jane's hand like she now had on more than one couch. "I didn't know you felt as I did. Not yet."

Jane nodded at this. Had the timeline been reversed, the kind of comfort the writer wanted to provide would have been influenced by the two women knowing of their mutual attraction.

"What brought you to my door tonight?" the brunette asked.

With her hand still holding Jacqueline's on the back of the couch, she was certain the other woman could feel her pulse beginning to race. What was she hoping the answer would be?

Jacqueline was at a loss for words. She should have expected the question. And yet she hadn't thought out a coherent explanation for why she was here. Yes, she wanted to continue their discussion of the attraction between them, but they could have done that anywhere. Why did she pick tonight to show up on Jane's doorstep? What was so important now?

"Would you believe that I was lonely?" the editor shook her head in shame. "I was sitting in my silent apartment thinking about how little I cared to interact with anyone despite feeling a deep loneliness and it occurred to me that there was someone I wanted near—you."

Taking the explanation in stride, Jane gave a slight squeeze to the proffered hand and lost herself momentarily in a haziness of blue the same color as the sky on a windy day.

"Did he know you were feeling or had felt something for someone else?" Jane bravely kept her eyes on Jacqueline's. She wasn't hiding from the major questions that had to be answered between the two of them.

"Feeling," Jacqueline's clearly defined state of being meant everything to Jane. Too much had been left undefined for too long. "No, he didn't and I didn't say anything. His leaving was about him. It was and is about his lack of desire for me. It had nothing to do with what or whom I desire."

Jane found herself tracing the length of each of Jacqueline's fingers. She glanced at their hands together and then back at the beautiful woman on her couch. There were many things she wanted to say though she couldn't be sure now was the right time.

Sitting up further, her hand leaving Jane's to travel up her arm to her shoulder, she grasped it and leaned forward. Jane's eyes closed briefly. When she opened them, she no longer felt the need to recite the matter of Jacqueline being the editor-in-chief, _her_ editor, married and twice Jane's age.

"Jacqueline…" Jane hummed the name as a question and a prayer.

"Say yes," the older woman whispered.

Taking shallow breaths, Jane took the hand on her shoulder and directed it to the back of her neck. She nodded her head faintly. She thought Jacqueline's lips would come to hers, but it turned out that her own impatience moved her forward first. She found the tinted lips that had tempted her for years. The full bottom lip begged to be pulled and Jane did so without hesitation. Until the opportunity presented itself, she hadn't considered what she'd want in a kiss from Jacqueline. She was taking it one breath at a time.

Jane's hands framed Jacqueline's face. The blonde's features were traced delicately by petite hands. As the kiss slowed so did her fingers.

"Whoa," the writer breathed.

Smiling, the blonde pressed a gentle kiss to Jane's forehead. She allowed herself the pleasure of smelling honey-enriched shampoo and the perfume she already associated with the younger woman.

"I honestly don't know what to say," Jacqueline's eyes found Jane's.

"Are you okay with that?" Jane's hands fell to the editor's shoulders. She couldn't bear to stop touching the woman.

"I turned up on your doorstep, Jane. If you remember our talk on another couch, I told you I was attracted to you with no hesitation despite my messy, expired marriage or my position as your boss. I am not about to regret kissing you, my dear," Jacqueline's sincerity was something Jane loved about her and something she wished all the critics and haters could see.

"I could never regret kissing you," Jane hummed, her hands slipping together behind the editor's head, fingers entwined with stray blonde strands joining them.

"Never?" Jacqueline Carlyle was the world's biggest flirt.

"Mmhmm," Jane leaned even closer.

When but an inch existed between their mouths, a simple, but meaningful smirk tilted the corner of Jane's mouth, earning it a different kind of knowing tilt—a perfected Jacqueline eyebrow raise.

Their lips met once again and instead of the slow, cautious kiss they had shared, neither held back. Jane's legs were nearly in Jacqueline's lap and Jacqueline's hand was slipping under Jane's shirt. The kiss spread fire through their bodies.

"Whoa."

This time Jacqueline used the word and it wasn't out of shock or whatever had driven Jane to use it, this time it was out of caution and consideration for what happened next.

"You're right," Jane panted.

"Far enough, but not too far?" Jacqueline's calm, even tone pulled them back to reality.

They didn't stop touching.

"When you were sitting in your office looking up my address, what did you hope to achieve by coming here?" Jane's voice was light and not accusatory.

This made Jacqueline smile. Of course Jane would know exactly how her boss had managed to find her in Brooklyn. She was too proud to have asked Richard. And she clearly didn't want to be that woman who asks for an address in a text message sounding like a booty call.

"I wanted to see you. I wanted to be near you," she explained. "I already admitted to my loneliness."

"Did you intend to kiss me?" the brunette felt no confidence in what the answer might be.

"Come here?" Jacqueline stood and held a hand out to Jane.

Interested, Jane took the hand and followed.

"Which?" the blonde asked when they stood equidistant from her bed and Sutton's old bed.

Nodding in the direction of her bedroom, Jane's heart rate spiked and she heard buzzing in her ears. When they reached the foot of her bed, she searched Jacqueline's blue eyes for any indication of what was about to happen. In those eyes she didn't find the type of desire or lust that suggested the woman before her wanted sex. This understanding brought with it a wave of relief. The relief she felt wasn't because she didn't want to have sex with Jacqueline, she did, she felt relief because she didn't want to be in the position of having to say 'no, not yet' to this exquisite woman. It would take time for her to be confident in this setting with Jacqueline. She hoped that was time she had.

Standing before Jane at the foot of the bed, Jacqueline took the girl's hands and stared back into brown, intense eyes. Even in the foreign, dark space Jacqueline spoke with a unique gravitas:

"What I intended was to come here and talk. I didn't look you up, grab a cab and show up here with the intention of kissing you or...more. My only intention with you was as it has always been—to be what you need. I hoped that you might need me, too. I hoped that this loneliness I have felt tonight—a loneliness not for simple human affection or because my husband left me—might be something you were feeling, too. I miss being with you, Jane. I long for your presence. What I intended when I came here tonight was for just that—to be with you. And now that I'm here, we're here, I'd like to lie down with you. I want to keep looking in your beautiful chestnut eyes. I want to continue to hold your hands. If you'll let me."

Jane was overcome with emotion. She had no idea what specifically in what Jacqueline had said got to her, but she had a lump in her throat. She didn't know what to say. Instead she turned, taking Jacqueline's hand and leading her to one side of the bed. Throwing back the blankets, the young woman crawled into the bed and patted the space next to her. The blonde followed.

Settling into their positions, the two women looked into each other's eyes until Jane leaned forward and pecked Jacqueline on the lips.

"Whatever your intentions had been when you arrived," Jane's broke into a smile. "I would have gone along."

Long, toned arms pulled Jane close. Their breathing slowly synced. Inhale for inhale, exhale for every exhale.

They fell asleep.

...

The ringing of Jacqueline's phone woke them. They'd been asleep for two hours. Attempting to clear her throat and wake enough to speak, the blonde finally reached her phone and answered.

"Hey, honey," she said earning her a raised eyebrow from the woman lying next to her.

"Mom, will you come get me?" Jane could hear Connor's voice through the phone.

"Is everything okay?" Jacqueline quickly sat up and was now wide awake.

"Yeah, I want to come home," he said.

Jane was on her own phone requesting an Uber for the woman whose children came first always, but especially right now.

"I'll be there in..." she looked over at Jane who held up her phone to show the ETA. "45 minutes."

"Thanks, Mom."

The call was over and Jane went looking for Jacqueline's things.

"It's still so new and Ian's place is temporary. Connor is my sensitive boy."

The editor was walking into the living room toward Jane as she said this.

"You don't have to explain," the brunette turned and handed Jacqueline her sandals.

Touching Jane's hand as she took her shoes, the editor looked into those supportive eyes with genuine affection.

"I want to, Jane."

This made Jane smile.

Once her shoes were on and she had her purse, Jacqueline moved toward the front entryway.

"Thank you for the Uber," the older woman turned back and her face was considerably less worn than when she had arrived.

Jane wasn't sure what to do or say. She stood still and never lost contact with dazzling blue eyes. Jacqueline made the move to kiss her. She received the kiss happily.

"Goodnight, Jane," Jacqueline said, her eyes smiling as she moved away.

"Goodnight."

Jane stood watching as the blonde made her way into the dark car and joined the slow Brooklyn traffic.

_That was something_, she thought.

...

"Patrick, may I have a word?" The editor-in-chief summoned the digital editor to her office, many eyes on them including Jane's.

Jane would have loved to be a fly on the wall. Alas, Jacqueline closed the door behind them.

Inside Jacqueline invited Patrick to sit.

"There are a few things that aren't working for me," the woman said.

"Oh?" Patrick presented as clueless. He wasn't. He knew what this was about.

"Jane Sloan is one of our best writers and most read. Having her solely on digital is hurting print. I know your goal is to sink print and make Scarlet exclusively digital. That doesn't work for me."

"It has not been my intention to harm print," he tried a charm offensive that fell flat.

"Don't bullshit me, Patrick. I know you are gunning for my job. Everyone knows it," she stared into him to the point of making him squirm.

Patrick should have known the kicker would be Jane. He should have expected that Jacqueline Carlyle would put up a fight.

"Aside from Jane, what else should I correct?" He corrected his posture and attitude.

"Use a conference room for your team meetings. The staff not working on digital don't need the distraction. I'll allow a short column on the website from Jane on a weekly basis. Otherwise she will do investigative reporting for the magazine," Jacqueline ordered.

"That will work for me," he stood and reached the door. "By the way, I was sorry to hear about Ian."

The smarmy editor exited the office having left his dig at Jacqueline heavy in the air. She shot the back of his head daggers from her chair. Jane happened to glance up and saw this before making eye contact with the editor-in-chief. Two fingers waved Jane to the office.

It was Jane's turn to be summoned.

She reached the office, standing in the doorway somewhat apprehensively. They hadn't spoken this morning. Jane had sent a text last night to ask if Connor was okay, but the two hadn't talked about what had happened at Jane's apartment.

"Hi. Come in," the blonde was caught smiling at Jane's refusal to take the chair Patrick had been sitting in. "Patrick and I have decided you will be returning to writing for the magazine. It won't be exclusive as you will have a short column weekly online. Eventually I'd like to transition you to print only."

"Both of you decided, huh?" Jane smirked.

This made the boss smile.

"I am the editor-in-chief, after all."

"That you are. Is this a good idea?" Jane asked without elaborating on what she meant.

"Don't you think so?" Jacqueline quirked an eyebrow.

"I don't foresee any problems," the writer seemed to be actively considering it.

"Do I need to point out that this has nothing to do with—"

"No," Jane cut her off. "I know you wouldn't make a decision that wasn't in the best interest of _Scarlet_."

"Good. Can you stay this evening to give me a pitch?" the corner of Jacqueline's mouth twitched.

This made the writer laugh aloud.

Jane knew that staying late meant sitting on Jacqueline's couch and sitting on Jacqueline's couch had come to symbolize an intimacy between them that had previously been confined to that space alone.

"I think I can manage that."

Jane stood, smoothed out her skirt and looked up to find blue eyes on her. Not on her own eyes, not on her face, but on her body. Her legs, her hips, her belly, her breasts—everything. She gulped.

"Perfect."

The writer left the boss's office with a much different look on her face than the man who'd gone before her had. And from behind her she knew that instead of sending daggers those blazing blue eyes had to fight the desire to watch the brunette's hips as she went back to her desk.

...

Jane walked into the fashion closet to find Kat and Sutton staring at her. The two women had clearly teamed up against her and she had no idea why.

"What?" she cluelessly asked.

"Is there anything you would like to tell us?" Kat was stone faced.

"About what?" Jane worried.

"Anything at all?" Sutton had less luck keeping a straight face, a sneaky smile surfaced.

"You guys! What?!" Jane stomped her foot.

"Ryan told Richard that when he went to drop off some of your things at your apartment you were entertaining a guest," Sutton said.

"Ryan and Richard are talking?" The writer was genuinely surprised by this.

"Don't answer a question with a question, missy," Kat stood and pulled over another ottoman for Jane.

"When did he?...oh."

Jane was unable to hide the blush on her cheeks.

"She stopped by to talk that night and—"

"And?" Sutton was literally on the edge of her seat looking at Jane.

"We talked?" Jane tried desperately to keep a poker face. It was bound to fail and it failed spectacularly.

"And if Ryan had come by the following morning would he have seen our boss leaving your apartment?" Sutton didn't beat around the bush.

"No! She left. Her son called. He woke us up and—" Jane had stepped in it.

The two women could not have given a more uniform look in that moment. Words were unnecessary when they could say it all with pointed eyebrows and slack-jawed stares.

"Oh, god," she groaned into her hands and avoided those stares.

"Is somebody sleeping with the boss?" Kat tried to be as light as possible with what was, ultimately, heavy.

"No, it's not, we're not. We did sleep, that's it. We hadn't intended to fall asleep."

Sutton burst out laughing at how crazy it was to be having this conversation. She had always known Jane to be enamored with Jacqueline. It was unspoken truth among the three of them. What she didn't expect was for something to actually come of it.

"Look, Jane, we both know this is hella complicated and you've got to be scared out of your damn mind. Setting that aside, whatever did happen or is happening, I'm glad Jacqueline has you right now. She needs a friend, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on—"

Kat was cut off by the adorably smirking fashionista.

"A body to feel warm against hers and...hey!" Kat shoved her nearly off the ottoman.

"Seriously, she needs a person to lean on and we know best that you're a rock," Kat smiled warmly.

"Thanks, Kat."

"I have a billion questions," Kat leaned in conspiratorially.

"You and me both, sista," Sutton added.

"There's really nothing to say. You guys are the ones that said I should go to her," Jane huffed.

"To warn her about her husband! Not to get her into your bed."

Jane mockingly glared at Kat.

"Can I ask one question?" Sutton requested and her friend nodded reluctantly. "Was something going on in Paris?"

"What? No," Jane was suddenly going over her behavior in Paris and wondering what might have caught her friend's attention. "Why?"

"I don't know. There was a moment, I guess. At the _Scarlet_ party. The two of you were in your own bubble as if the rest of the world had fallen away."

Kat smiled at this because she, too, saw something that stuck with her.

"Nothing happened in Paris," Jane answered truthfully.

"Except Jacqueline threw caution to the wind and printed your attack on Safford's policy on fertility treatments. She risked her job for you, Jane. That act alone was not without undertones of affection."

Jane thought about this and knew they were both right. She hadn't allowed herself to think of it that way in Paris. She had Ben at home and, like that night on Jacqueline's couch, she had assumed Jacqueline's marriage was solid. There had been a spark. When was there not a spark when they were around each other?

Breaking her out of her thoughts, Sutton and Kat ambushed Jane with bear hugs. No reason was needed. They knew as well as Jane did that the road ahead, if there was going to be one, would be bumpy. Their hugs reminded Jane of who has always had her back.

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

"Did you really want me to pitch a new story?" Jane stood with her arms crossed in the office doorway.

"Do you have one?" the editor put her glasses down and looked up.

"See, that's why I want to know if you were serious. If I say yes and you weren't serious, well, that's not terrible, but if I say no and you were serious, that's problematic."

Jacqueline was trying desperately to neither look Jane up and down nor smirk at the writer's theory on the situation at hand. Leaning back, kicking her feet up onto the desk, the blonde watched as Jane's eyes followed the long line from her tall heel to her hip. Jacqueline, wondering how far she could push the writer, raised her arms and linked her hands behind her head. Sure enough, Jane's eyes followed.

"What's on your mind, Jane Sloan?" Jacqueline smirked, proud of her ability to still turn a head.

Taking a few steps toward Jacqueline, she smiled when she noticed the quickening of the rise and fall of the older woman's chest.

"You do that on purpose," Jane smirked, maintaining her composure despite wanting to approach the editor, knock her feet off the desk and stand between those long legs while kissing her fiercely.

"I do many things with purpose," Jacqueline stated.

"You use my last name when you are either angry or really wanting to get my attention."

Dropping her feet to the floor and sitting up, Jacqueline smiled.

"It is an acquired skill of all parents," she reached for her glasses and stopped before putting them on when she saw an unusual look on Jane's face. "What is it?"

"I don't really know that part of you—the parent—and when you mention it, I…"

There was a flash of insecurity on the blonde's face. Jane attempted to understand the reason, but she decided to assuage those fears outright rather than dance around it.

"I would love to get to know that part of you."

There was a relieved smile on the editor's face when Oliver suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"You two need to see this," he held his phone out to Jacqueline and stood elbow to elbow with Jane as the head of _Scarlet_ read one of the most demeaning articles she could ever remember being written about her since she became a high profile New Yorker.

"Good god," Jacqueline sighed. "We knew she would defend her photography empire. Friendly member of the press helps."

Handing the phone back to Oliver who placed it in Jane's hand, he and Jacqueline simultaneously took a seat.

"You're going to have to make a statement, Jax," he said. "By tomorrow there will be fifty outlets calling for comment. If you get something out there, they can be pointed to it rather than having to respond to each and every one. They won't have the fall issue in their hands, so they won't know where all of this is coming from."

The writer was attempting to follow what Oliver was saying as she read the piece. It was in a New York tabloid, but it was clearly the work of Pamela Dolan. She was in defense mode and, as Oliver himself had once said, she would take down the career of anyone who came for her. Apparently, that also meant Jacqueline.

"This is horseshit!" Jane was fuming; she didn't look up as she said it so she missed the four eyes that looked at her with some surprise. She wasn't usually profane at the office. "She thinks that the answer to her unprofessional, unethical and immoral behavior is to attack Jacqueline for her husband's questionable behavior? And she actually thinks that says something about Jacqueline's ability to lead. Who the hell does she think she is?"

Oliver was stifling a grin when Jane handed back his phone. It warmed his heart to see someone defending his long-time friend like this. She needed all the people in her corner she could get right now. He was also on to her, where her defensiveness was coming from, and in that moment he knew she couldn't be bothered to care what he knew about the relationship she had with their boss.

"Obviously there are plenty of PR people in the building who can take care of this," he shut off his phone screen and put it in his pocket.

"No." The editor-in-chief spoke firmly.

"No? You can't let her get away with this, Jacqueline," Jane was livid.

"No, I will not have the PR department deal with this. Jane, you and I worked hard for the story and I'm not going to apologize for that," she said. "The fall edition is going to print with the Pamela Dolan story. She can't threaten me into holding it."

"Hear me out," Oliver began. "What if you use your editor's note for the fall edition on this? It can go on the web immediately and be printed in the magazine. Defend your piece, not your personal life or leadership or whatever the hell else that monster wants to drag up."

Jacqueline stared ahead and considered what Oliver was suggesting.

"Jane? I'm going to need your help drafting it," she finally spoke.

"Of course."

"We need to prepare ourselves for what will come when we go to print," the blonde stood and looked out over the busy bullpen. "Everyone will need to know it is coming."

Oliver stood and nodded his head. He put a hand on his hip and followed Jacqueline's line of sight to the bullpen and back.

"If she's coming for the queen, she best not miss."

He exited the office as suddenly as he had entered it.

Jane looked at Jacqueline with sincere concern and righteous indignation.

"Would you like to come over tonight? I'll cook."

Jane felt the nerves set in. Whether it was that they would be at Jacqueline's home or that they would be working closely, she wasn't sure. Spending time with the woman excited her and scared her.

"The boys will be home, but aside from dinner we will hardly see them. I sometimes forget they are there. Unless they are gaming. Video games and boys make for a lot of noise," the blonde smiled.

The family side of Jacqueline was one Jane didn't see often. She lit up when she talked about her boys.

"Yes."

This, too, made Jacqueline light up and she looked absolutely radiant. The nerves weren't going anywhere nor was the excitement. This was a kind of step for them, even if it was work.

…

"She invited you over for dinner _with_ her boys?" Sutton stopped going through dresses in the fashion closet to direct her full attention to what Jane was telling she and Kat.

"We are going to write her editor's note," Jane felt defensive, but attempted to hide it because she wasn't sure how it would be received by her best friends.

"But she is not only having you over to her home, she's asking you there while her boys are. That is not insignificant, Jane," Kat said.

It wasn't as if Jane hadn't thought about this. She had thought of nothing else since her boss had asked her. Her feelings were all over the map. And she truly didn't know how Kat and Sutton felt about this evolving situation between she and Jacqueline.

"You guys are not helping my nerves calm, thank you very much," Jane glared.

"Has she said anything about Ian recently?" Sutton asked sympathetically.

"No," the brunette had wondered if she should ask Jacqueline, but it was a very sensitive subject and she wasn't sure if it was even any of her business. Not having a defined relationship meant not knowing where the boundaries were. "I can't imagine what it would feel like to have a spouse or partners' behavior thrown in your face and used as an accusation that you have poor judgment."

"She's a force, Mama Jackie," Kat sighed.

It made Jane laugh every time Kat called Jacqueline 'Mama Jackie', mostly because she would _never_ call their boss that. It was perfectly Kat, though. She had supported each of them through various struggles during their time at _Scarlet_. She was the exact opposite of how the world viewed women in her position. She was neither an ice queen nor a monster to work for. She was no Pamela Dolan, that was for sure. And here Jane was, right back around to what started this all. Perhaps tonight would bring her clarity.

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

"Boys, don't you have homework?" Jacqueline said as she walked into the living room on her way toward the kitchen; she had Jane in tow.

"Gran made us do it when we got home from school," the younger Carlyle son answered without ever pulling his eyes from the video game playing out on the television screen.

"You remember Jane, don't you?" she tried once again to get their attention to only partial success.

"Hello, Jane," James stopped looking at the television long enough to look up at Jane and smile. He had the same radiant smile as his mother.

The Carlyle boys were attached to controllers and Jane didn't mind. Her eyes were on the blonde who had dressed down as much as she was capable in a pair of skinny jeans and a loose, striped button down, the sleeves neatly rolled to her elbows. In a pair of sandals that Jane assumed cost more than her monthly salary, Jacqueline was closer to her own height, but even flat-footed she did have a slight advantage.

"Jane and I have work to do after dinner."

She looked at Jane and gestured to the kitchen. The two women were both battling nerves.

"Could you pour us some wine? I'll get the pasta started," Jacqueline moved for the cupboard where the wine glasses were, placing two on the kitchen island. "The corkscrew is in the top drawer by your left hip."

Despite feeling out of place and anxious, the brunette opened the bottle of wine, poured two glasses and allowed the wine to breathe. She watched Jacqueline as she gracefully moved around her kitchen as she talked about cooking and how relaxing she found it. The writer was riveted.

"What?" Jacqueline questioned; her eyes caught the curious look on her guest's face.

"Nothing," she bashfully looked away. "It's nice, that's all. Getting to see you like this. Watching you in your kitchen—comfortable and casual."

The slight color that reached Jacqueline's cheeks made Jane's stomach flip.

"I'd offer to help, but I am useless in the kitchen," she admitted.

"But you bake, don't you?" Jacqueline countered.

"Baking and cooking are very different. Bakers don't cook and chefs don't bake," she asserted.

Jacqueline smiled at this.

"You're welcome to go sit down. The boys don't bite."

Jane looked into the living room at the Carlyle kids and found herself wanting to know them. They were a window into the person their mother was. She slowly walked into the living room and stood near the couch watching the boys play.

"Which Crash Team Racing is this?" she asked the boys who had been oblivious to her presence.

The game paused and both boys' heads turned toward Jane.

"You game?" they said simultaneously.

"Of course. But I'm more into Far Cry lately."

"But you're old!" Connor blurted out, James nudging his shoulder afterward with a look that told the younger boy that he was being rude.

The brunette couldn't help but laugh. Age was against her with the boys who thought she was too old and their mother who, Jane believed, found her too young.

"Jacqueline, your boys called me old," she hollered in the direction of the kitchen. She could hear that glorious laugh of the editor. She was falling in love with that laugh.

"We've got another controller," James offered.

Throwing caution to the wind, Jane sat down in the spot between the boys. They set up a player for her and she quickly got into it. Playing with two young boys was not something she'd done since she was a kid herself, but she was having a great time. The last two people she'd played with were Alex and Ryan. They were far more competitive than James and Connor. She wondered if James and Connor were simply being polite.

"I will stomp you, lady!" Connor said as he leaned forward and gripped his controller harder.

_So much for polite_, Jane thought.

"Watch your back, buddy," she fired back.

"I'm going to wipe out if you two keep it up!"

James had a big grin on his face and nudged Jane's arm to indicate he was messing with her and having a great time. They went on like this for fifteen minutes. Jacqueline had approached them and cleared her throat to announce herself. All three heads turned to her, the middle of the three blushing as if she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't.

"Dinner is ready," she smiled.

Stopping the game and placing his controller on the coffee table, Connor stood and hugged his mother around the waist. She wrapped her arms around him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

"Go wash up. You get out of setting the table tonight."

The boys ran off to the bathroom while Jane stood watching Jacqueline gather the controllers and return them to the drawer where they were kept. The writer's eyes couldn't pull away from the blonde's backside as she bent to open and close the drawer. She felt her face heat up when Jacqueline turned around to see her staring. No words were exchanged. They made their way to the kitchen without acting on the electricity that coursed through their bodies.

"That's dad's seat, James," Connor whined as the boys came to the kitchen and found their plates set out at the table.

"He can sit there, love. It's not a big deal."

Jane was reminded of how much upheaval the boys had experienced recently. They seemed to be handling it well, but she knew under the surface there must be turmoil. She avoided looking over at Jacqueline because she wasn't sure what her own face might be expressing in that moment. She felt a pang of sadness.

The conversation flowed freely as they ate. The younger woman found herself looking over her wine glass at the blonde often. When their eyes would meet both women would hold the contact for longer than necessary.

"No screens after dinner," Jacqueline began gathering plates after a relaxing dinner with ample conversation.

The boys hurried off to what Jane could only assume was their bedroom.

"Let me put these in the dishwasher and then we'll go into the study and get to work on the note," Jacqueline said.

"Dinner was delicious," Jane picked up a dish and carried it to the sink. "Your boys are great."

"They've taken to you," Jacqueline smiled.

This in turn made Jane smile.

"They are as smart, kind and funny as their mother," the writer couldn't stop herself from touching the blonde's forearm. "You're a great mom, Jacqueline."

Turning toward Jane, the older woman had tears in her eyes and clearly wanted to pull Jane against her, surrendering to that human need as well as the underlying attraction they shared.

"The study?" Jane suggested as a way of eliminating the temptation she could see was developing in and frustrating Jacqueline. It was too complicated with the boys at home.

Being led down the hall to the study, Jane's eyes caught the sight of a large bed as they passed what must have been Jacqueline's bedroom. And it made Jane's heart race. Her mind returned to the night in her own bed when they held each other before dozing off. She wanted to share that again. If not more.

The study was perfectly Jacqueline. Taking a seat behind the desk, the editor pulled a stool on castors up beside her. Jane took a seat and a deep breath as she settled into a space close enough to Jacqueline that she could not only smell her ubiquitous perfume but also the exotic scent of her shampoo. She watched with fascination as the blonde slipped on her reading glasses.

Perfectly manicured nails surrounded the wireless mouse, moving around with precision as she opened a new document and began adjusting the margin settings.

"I'm not sure what you need me for," Jane shrugged. "You know what you want to say about Pamela Dolan."

Taking off her glasses, Jacqueline turned to Jane.

"You're an amazing writer and this is our story," she stated unequivocally.

"But it's you she is attacking personally," Jane was swimming in those blue eyes.

"I'm not giving her the satisfaction of defending my personal life. Besides, Ian is his own man. What he does has nothing to do with me. If she were attacking me without dragging my family into it, maybe I'd feel inclined to defend myself, but she isn't."

Jane thought about what Ian now was to Jacqueline and it darkened her mood. They were family. They had been a family for twenty years. That doesn't change overnight. Her mind drifted to a place where she questioned if there was ever to be a place for Jane in Jacqueline's life.

"I imagine there'd be a lot to attack if she knew about me," the brunette spoke.

"And what exactly about you, Jane?" the words were accompanied by a hand finding the brunette's thigh. Each of the following sentences came with a deeper tone and Jacqueline leaning closer. "That you came over for dinner? That you're helping me write a defense of our reporting? That we sat shoulder to shoulder? That my hand was on your thigh and desperately wanting to slip further between both your thighs?"

"God…"

Jane had no sooner exhaled in that reverent tone she now knew could only be for Jacqueline when they both heard Connor calling to his mom. Jane slid the stool back and attempted to slow her racing heart. The younger son appeared in the doorway.

"I can't figure this out," he complained, carrying a piece of paper with multiple fold outs. "It says this piece is supposed to go on the hull of the ship, but it can't. The shape is all wrong."

The look on Jacqueline's face was one of abject terror. She clearly hadn't had to help Connor with a Lego kit before. This made Jane laugh which earned her a joking glare from the blonde.

"Let me see this thing," Jane held out her hand and Connor looked to his mother for the nod of permission before handing it over.

"It's a ship in a bottle! How cool is that? Oh, wait, let me see those pieces in your hand," she appeared truly excited about this. "You've got to put these two together to create that angle."

Connor looked at them, turned them upside down and then he broke into a giant grin. He hurried out of the study.

"What do you tell Jane, Connor?" his mom asked him loudly.

"Thank you!" he hollered as he ran down the hall.

The entire thing made Jane smile. When she saw how Jacqueline was looking at her, she realized that not only had she saved Connor the frustration of having his mother try to figure out Legos, she had very much impressed his mother.

"What?" she blushed.

Nothing was said. No words were necessary as Jacqueline's lips pressed against Jane's. The kiss didn't go further, but it promised more. The editor's note had to be done and the boys being in the house put a wet blanket on the raging inferno between them.

Sitting close together, Jane and Jacqueline settled into a rhythm of throwing ideas out, Jacqueline typing them and then the two of them picking apart the language. When they had a rough draft, the editor hit print and stood to retrieve it. She handed Jane a pencil.

"Do your worst," Jacqueline smiled at the irony of Jane taking the editor's role. "I need to go tuck the boys in and say goodnight. Ten minutes?"

Nodding, the writer was already making marks on the printed page as the blonde disappeared down the hall. When she had finished with her edits and notes, she stood to stretch. She walked over to the bookshelf where there were several framed pictures. There she saw that beautiful, familiar face smiling back at her. The two boys were rough housing with Jacqueline in the middle of it. She looked genuinely happy. Connor must have been five. There was one photograph of the entire family, Ian included, that brought up the earlier sadness Jane had felt. Not guilt, as she thought she might feel looking at the man who was still Jacqueline's husband, but sadness that the beaming man in the photograph would ever think being separated from his family would bring him more happiness than that moment before the camera. Another frame held a truly stunning portrait of a much younger Jacqueline Carlyle. She held Jane's gaze with the authority of a woman who was comfortable with who she was and confident that she had much to offer the world.

"It's… you were…. Are…" Jane stammered.

"It's the nineties hair, isn't it?" Jacqueline came up behind Jane and placed her chin on the shorter woman's shoulder.

The awe the petite woman directed at that photograph made Jacqueline's body warm. When Jane turned around and their eyes met, the raging inferno from earlier and, honestly, months, had returned. Jane wasted no time in capturing the tinted lips she so loved. No kiss the younger woman had ever shared felt like this one. Feeling nails on the back of her neck provoked a deep moan. Spurred on by the moan, Jacqueline took complete control by backing Jane into the bookshelf. Bodies pressed together; lungs burned with lack of oxygen; hips were unable to still. When the blonde's long, toned arms allowed her hands to cup Jane's butt cheeks, there was a corresponding, fluid movement that was as if they had practiced it. The brunette was lifted off her feet and her legs wrapped around Jacqueline. The hips that hadn't stopped moving were now able to rock directly against one another, causing a mind-blowing friction between their bodies.

"Jane…" Jacqueline took a turn moaning before her mouth trailed along the young woman's neck.

Her head tipped back and her eyes closed tight, Jane's breathing was shallow and her arousal escalated.

"We can't do this. Not right now," the writer had come to her senses and remembered that two clueless boys were down the hall as their mother and her, her what? employee? went at it in the study.

"God, I hate that you are right."

Slowing her hips and catching her breath, Jacqueline reluctantly lowered Jane to the floor. She saw dark eyes full of desire. Leaning her forehead against Jane's, she sought out self-control. She had never before wished her sons were with their father until that very moment. The thought also crossed her mind that her readiness to take this further with Jane was a major step for her. Was she over Ian? She wasn't sure she could ever be over a man who had been the love of her life for twenty years. Was she ready to move on with her life? _Yes_, she thought, _I am_.

…

They had finished the editor's note and were on speaker phone with Oliver as he read it. He made a few minor suggestions, particularly about tone before commending them for their bravery, Jacqueline especially. She wasn't going to bat for her personal life, but she was going to bat for _Scarlet_.

"Might I ask if you are going to run this by our esteemed colleague who happens to be over digital?" they could hear that devious smirk in his voice.

"I am still the editor-in-chief and retain full access to our digital publishing capabilities," Jacqueline could be devious, too.

Jane took the editor's hand in her own and gave it a squeeze.

"I say go for it and be ready for the shitstorm that will greet you when you arrive at the office in the morning."

"Thanks, Oliver," Jane said.

"I'm on your side, ladies," he reminded them. "Goodnight."

The way he signed off made them both blush. He was suggestive and his growing knowledge of their developing relationship could not be ignored. They trusted him, Jacqueline as much as Jane trusted Kat and Sutton. The two of them had been through the wars over the years at _Scarlet_ and without knowing how Jacqueline's mentor was pushed out, she suspected that the two of them had responded to that move in force. Jane wondered if Jacqueline was surprised when she was named editor-in-chief. She also wondered what her boss was like ten years prior.

"Shall I hit publish?" Jacqueline exhaled equal parts relief and trepidation.

"Are you prepared for tomorrow?" Jane's concern was unmistakable.

"What's the worst that could happen?" the editor raised an eyebrow.

"The details of the hack, your losing digital, and whatever happened with Ian will become fodder for every media publication, website and blog?" Jane's honesty was always blunt.

Lowering her head to Jane's shoulder, Jacqueline allowed herself to be wrapped into a side hug. She took several deep breaths before reaching out a hand and clicking on the publish button.

"Thank you, Jane," Jacqueline whispered.

"For what? I'm the one who brought you this story and got us both into this mess. She wouldn't have come after you, dredging up your personal life, if I hadn't pushed to expose her. I knew she would go all out in defense of her career and reputation."

"I meant thank you for your support, your care, your…" she trailed off.

The missing word could bring them both to their knees in worship of one another. How long it had been there, Jane wasn't entirely sure, but she could remember feeling something like it way back when Jacqueline revealed her sexual assault. This woman had been her editor, her cheerleader, her mentor, her friend and now everything.

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: I was not expecting for this story and the current episode to intersect, but it did a bit. Not even my imagination could have come up with what the costume people did for Jacqueline in "Final Push" (03x09). –dkc_

The phones were already ringing in a constant cacophony when Kat, Sutton and Jane arrived at work. Assistants scurried around as their bosses fielded texts, emails and calls from various industry insiders about what was to be revealed in the fall edition's takedown of Pamela Dolan.

Jane looked to the glass office where she saw Jacqueline doing her own version of pacing on the treadmill as she spoke into the speakerphone quite animatedly.

Jacqueline was known for breaking out the treadmill when she was stressed even though she attempted to explain it away by needing her steps. She was far more transparent to her staff than she thought herself to be.

Blue eyes turned at that moment and found Jane's. The contact was reassuring for both of them. She nodded then returned her attention to her call.

Jane sat down at her desk and opened her email with the shock that comes from having a bomb dropped.

"_Page Six has a tip that a certain editor is dating a much younger writer. Be careful, Jane."_

Jane sat stunned. Not only had the message caught her off guard, the sender was none other than Ryan. She didn't question his information. She knew him to be well-connected. She did wonder why he cared.

Without thinking she had checked her personal email account first and was now relieved he'd thought to send the message there. The hacking of their server still had everyone on edge. She didn't know a personal email address for Jacqueline where she could forward the message. She forwarded to a phone number—Jacqueline's—the editor needed to know.

Once the blonde was off the phone, Jane could see her scrolling through something on the screen, presumably email and texts. The editor stopped suddenly on the treadmill, shut it off and looked out into the bullpen for Jane.

_Fashion closet_, a return text read.

...

Jane and Jacqueline had never met in the fashion closet. In fact, the only memory she had of being with her boss there was when Jacqueline walked in to find Jane being nearly strangled by a blouse. Unable to rid it from her body, she had enlisted Kat and Sutton who tugged on it for dear life while Jane stood with her bra exposed to their unwitting boss.

"Are you okay?" the older woman entered the room with genuine worry and distress. "Is that all he said?"

Jane had been sitting on the ottoman and had expected Jacqueline to be panicking about what this meant for her job, her reputation and her own family. The writer was a bit overwhelmed by the worry being directed her way.

"Am I okay?" Jane shook her head in confusion. "You're not angry?"

"Angry? At whom? Does it bother me that this woman is going to great lengths to treat us poorly while her behavior toward others is the very reason we are publishing this piece? Yes, of course. At Mr. Decker? At you?"

Jane couldn't help the lopsided grin on her face at Jacqueline's refusal to use Ryan's first name. She stood and wrapped her arms around the woman.

"How worried should we be that _this_ is out there?" the writer hummed against silk.

"Once the world knows what Pamela Dolan has done, they will understand what she is capable of. Whatever mud she slings will wash off. In my experience when a reporter says they have a tip like this, it's to see if they can't get someone to talk. Someone talks and the story is confirmed. Neither of us is saying anything and we can trust our friends."

Jacqueline stepped back and looked at Jane after mentioning their friends. There had been a 'we' and a 'our' thrown in by the two of them and it was significant but now was definitely not the time to address it.

"Kat and Sutton won't say a word," Jane emphatically stated.

"Nor will Oliver," Jacqueline couldn't stand being so close and not touching. She placed a hand on the younger woman's bicep as she spoke her biggest question. "What about…?"

Taking a slow, shaky breath, Jane hated that they even had to discuss Ryan. Their relationship had ended and that should have been enough. However, it was Ryan who saw Jacqueline leaving the apartment and it was Ryan who warned her about the curious reporter.

"He saw you leaving my apartment that night," she confessed.

It was the blonde's turn to take a slow breath. Her mind turned over the possibilities, avoiding the pitfall that was thinking of his once intense relationship with Jane. She could imagine things that may not have been, questioned whether Jane really wanted that and, ultimately, become jealous of a man she hardly knew.

"We've been working closely on this story. There could be any number of explanations for that," she managed to respond. "Wait. Did he tell _you_ he saw me? Today?"

Jane shook her head and offered a look of reassurance.

"He told Richard," she explained.

"Richard knows?" Jacqueline removed her hand so that she could pinch the bridge of her nose.

"He knows you were at my place; he doesn't know why. He is as trustworthy as Oliver, no?"

Taking a minute to process everything, the tall stood tall, dropped her hand from her face and found her balance again.

"Yes, of course. Richard Hunter is a good man. Let's not worry about this. We have bigger issues to address today. They won't print anything without confirmation. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," the editor-in-chief had her swagger back.

Jacqueline's confidence was infectious. Jane immediately felt better about the situation. However, she had let the thought form that it would only be fair that her personal life blow up in her face because of her willingness to go after a woman like Pamela Dolan. It still didn't sit well with Jane that something that was not Jacqueline's fault, at least not in a concrete sense, was being picked apart as a threat. Whatever Ian was doing was not Jacqueline's doing. The writer thought him a fool. One day he would recognize this moment as the biggest mistake of his life.

"Jacqueline!" Patrick's voice bellowed from somewhere outside the fashion closet. "Jacqueline are you in there?"

His annoying voice had caused the editor to cringe. Jane stiffened, knowing precisely what he wanted. They looked into each other's eyes and took a deep breath.

"Jacqueline," Patrick threw open the door and continued speaking before he was entirely in the room. "Why didn't you call me? A heads up would have been appropriate."

He didn't seem to notice Jane standing there or if he did, he certainly didn't acknowledge her. He had launched into his complaint without any greeting. His frustration with Jacqueline filled the room with tension. Jane felt defensive.

"Shall we go talk about this in my office?" Jacqueline looked out the corner of her eye at Jane; she may as well have been telling the young woman to run for cover.

"I'll be going."

Jane walked around Patrick who still didn't seem to care that she was in the room. She returned to her desk and overheard the two as they walked past. Jacqueline was asserting that she was still the editor-in-chief. When challenged she told him she had a responsibility to every reader, advertiser, trustee, employee and herself to put out the best product possible and then defend it when necessary. The confrontation was short, but from what Jane could tell Jacqueline came out on top. She felt pride and satisfaction in seeing Patrick swatted away so effectively. Pride wasn't all she felt.

Assertive, dominant Jacqueline was extremely hot.

…

Pamela Dolan marched toward Jacqueline Carlyle's office as if she were the Queen of England. Jane's stomach dropped and she fought off her building anxiety.

The glass door closed behind the photographer. The editor had stood and gestured for the woman to take a seat across from her desk. Jacqueline's posture had stiffened at the entrance of her surprise guest. She glanced out to the bullpen, making eye contact briefly with Jane.

Reading lips would have been a great skill in this moment. Jane was reassured by the fact that Pamela hadn't come with a lawyer.

_Holy shit!_ Kat said in their group chat, Jane looking at her phone to avoid looking at the women behind the glass. _I've got my money on Jacqueline._

The writer hoped Kat was right.

Jane had almost gathered enough concentration and motivation to work on a piece for digital when suddenly the glass office door swung open and a livid Pamela Dolan exited, nearly flying through the bullpen.

"Jane!" Jacqueline's voice carried through the room as the elevator doors closed with the photographer behind them. "Andrew, I need you to see if Oliver is available. And Richard Hunter."

Andrew gave Jane a quizzical look as they passed one another. It was unusual for him to not glare at her.

"Come in," the editor said as she held the door for Jane.

"Tell me what happened."

The door had no sooner closed when Jane asked for information.

"She is as awful in person as the models said," Jacqueline took a seat in one of the chairs across from her desk and beckoned Jane to follow.

"She threatened to sue each of the girls for violating their non-disclosure agreements and that's just the beginning. She thinks she can also go after them each for libel."

The writer watched Jacqueline's shoulders drop as she finally relaxed the posture she had adopted when the photographer from Hell had arrived. Oh, how she wished she could offer a shoulder massage right now or even pull Jacqueline into a hug.

"And _Scarlet_?" she asked gently.

"Libel. Harassment. Copyright infringement."

"Copyright infringement?" Jane didn't understand.

"By printing any of the images that include shoots where women were harmed, she says we are in violation of the copyright on her creative property."

The editor began twisting the bracelet on her wrist round and round. She finally stopped when Jane placed her hand there discreetly.

"There's more," Jane knew something was being left out.

"She threatened to sue both you and I for harassment. She claims that by harassing her employees we have harassed her because it harms her business," she revealed.

"So does abusing your models, but I guess that doesn't matter," Jane fumed. "Are you okay?"

The older woman took a deep breath and appeared to be fighting tears.

"What is it?" Jane pressed.

"On her way out the door she said she was sorry to hear about Ian."

Jane could tell by the way she spoke that she was leaving something out. Regardless, she was angry on Jacqueline's behalf.

"And?" she pressed again.

"And..." Jacqueline looked away before returning her eyes to Jane's. "She said it looked like I had already moved on."

Taking a slow, contemplative breath, Jane was trying her best to get a handle on her anger. Everything about Pamela Dolan made her angry. She couldn't stand seeing Jacqueline hurt.

"Then Ryan's warning wasn't off base," Jane sighed. "I am really sorry."

"Don't apologize. Please?" Jacqueline rolled her eyes to ward off tears. "I can't take that right now."

"Jax?" Oliver had stuck his head in the door quietly and spoke with a reverence that reflected his understanding that something big had happened and the two women were sharing a moment that he was now breaking up. "She was here? What happened?"

Standing from her place next to Jane, Jacqueline walked around her desk and took a seat in the chair that made her appear powerful even in moments when she could hardly muster feelings of power.

"I am going to need to get into this with the legal team," Jacqueline spoke. "She's threatening libel and defamation against _Scarlet_, the models and Jane and I, specifically."

"Of course she is. What did I say about the woman doing anything it took to spare her reputation and career?" Oliver looked at Jane who momentarily felt like an asshole for dragging the magazine and Jacqueline into this.

"Oliver, I need a favor," Jacqueline's tone redirected his attention from the writer.

"Name it. You know I'm on your side, Jax," he stood straight. "What can I do?"

"You hear things, right? Everybody in this industry talks. It's absurd how much. Maybe you haven't heard anything, but surely somebody knows something about Dolan that we can use. If she feels this piece about the models is something she can shake, I need a story she can't."

Jane had not expected Jacqueline to take this approach. Jacqueline was not messing around. She also didn't expect Oliver to be as ready and willing to get in the muck for her. She also didn't expect herself to make a move.

"I'll ask Ry—" Jane stopped herself. "I'll ask a friend of mine who has a lot of contacts in the publishing world. Maybe he can dig up a skeleton or two."

Jacqueline looked at Jane and offered a nod accepting the help even if she wasn't sure how she felt about Ryan. She trusted that Jane thought he could be of assistance without causing them any additional trouble.

There was a knock on the glass door before the impeccably dressed Richard Hunter popped his head in.

"Is everything okay? I was summoned."

"Richard, we have a problem," Jacqueline began.

"I don't like the sound of that," he crossed his arms and observed them.

"Why don't the two of you get to work and we'll reconvene tonight?" the editor-in-chief didn't let on to Richard that the fashionista and writer were about to take matters into their own hands.

"You got it, boss lady," Oliver smiled at Richard before strutting out of the office.

Jane was less eager to get out of that room. She hated leaving the legal to Jacqueline; she had been responsible for opening this can of worms. However, she understood the trust the woman had in her friend and that his advice would be more frank and helpful if the two spoke alone.

"Thank you, Richard," she said as she nodded at him on her way to the door.

Exiting the office, Jane turned back and for a brief moment thought she saw worry on Jacqueline's face.

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

Author's note: A long delayed update to this story. -dkc

"What do we have?" the all-powerful editor was exhausted and her voice projected as much.

Jane had entered the office after Oliver and hadn't had the opportunity to gage Jacqueline's state of mind. She looked at her, reading each line and expression like a book. She had been studying this woman for years now. They had a way of conversing by the slight rise in an eyebrow, considered furrowing of brows and, increasingly Jacqueline's favorite, Jane's wide-eyed stare.

"Oliver should start," Jane turned to him and allowed what he found to come to light first. She could feel blue eyes from the other side of the desk on her. It was as if a heat lamp had been turned directly on her. Oliver began speaking, thankfully.

"Multiple divorces," Oliver said, "But who in this town hasn't been divorced at least once? Pamela Dolan is not that special."

Jane inwardly cringed. How must Jacqueline feel knowing that she would be joining that particular club soon? She was making an assumption, of course, but it seemed a formality at this point.

"Third marriage ended amid accusations that she was abusive to her husband. Physically," Jane picked up where Oliver had stopped, letting the final word hang in the air. This bit of evidence was not insignificant to a story about a woman who abused models.

"I don't suppose the accusations came from the husband?" Jacqueline sighed. She hated that this is where they had arrived.

"It was sealed in their divorce proceedings, but yes," Jane added and Oliver expressed surprise.

"How did you?..." he started, but was quickly cut off by the towering blonde.

"Stop. We aren't doing this. She fights dirty. We will not stoop to her level. Every marriage has its secrets. It isn't my place to drag hers out in the open, even if doing so will save mine from being aired publicly," as Jacqueline spoke, Jane caught a slightly, wavering tone that she knew had to do with Ian leaving her. There was more to it than him falling out of love with her. But, as Jacqueline was stating, everyone had their secrets. It was no more Jane's to know than it was the New York tabloids.

Each of the three of them had remained standing for the conversation. Jacqueline flattened her palms on her desk and leaned forward. In any other circumstance, Jane would have admired the view. She couldn't remember when those moments of desire began. She had been looking at her boss with reverence from day one. It couldn't have been long after that she developed a maddening crush.

"Jax, you're running out of options if you don't want this to snowball, hun," Oliver's concern for his friend was admirable. "This will take you down."

"Then so be it," Jacqueline said forcefully.

This willingness to throw her career away scared Jane and she reacted without giving it a second thought.

"Drop the story."

Both the editor and the fashion guru's heads snapped around and landed on her.

"It isn't worth it," Jane was adamant and would state her case. "It's fine if I'm the topic of speculation, if my name gets attached to this. Let me be targeted. It's fine if they spread rumors about _Scarlet_'s leadership; it wouldn't be the first time," Oliver smirked at this and Jane carried on. "It is _not_ okay if they fuck with your family, Jacqueline. Let Ian's reputation take a hit. He's made his choice. But don't be a martyr. Don't hand them your job. Don't allow them to play fast and loose with the truth about the kind of person you are."

Jane had tears in her eyes that she was fighting. Her anger was under the surface, barely. Oliver, too, had a twinkle in his eye.

"I'm going to give you two a minute," Oliver winked at Jacqueline from the doorway. He knew. He knew without he and his longtime friend ever having talked about Jane. There was something there. He remembered the relationship the editor-in-chief had with her own mentor and while that was intense, it was nothing like what was happening before him between Jacqueline and Jane.

"Sit with me?" Jacqueline nodded to the couch.

Jane sat down and let out a sigh. She leaned her head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The proximity Jacqueline chose when she sat down suggested nobody was in the bullpen who might inadvertently see a private moment.

"Talk to me?" the editor said, resting an elbow on the back of the couch quite near Jane's head.

"I am not afraid for me; I am afraid for you—for your boys."

The way Jane spoke was frustrated, protective and nothing but sincere.

"Honey, I appreciate that, but this isn't your responsibility. Dolan's underhanded tactics are not your fault. You brought me the story and it was—_is_—an important story to tell. You did exactly what you should as a writer who has a duty to the truth."

The tears that had welled in the writer's eyes when she told Jacqueline to scrap the article finally spilled. Unable to watch the frustration getting the better of her writer, the blonde slid even closer to Jane and took her hand. She brought it to her lips and kissed the back of it gently. Jane was taken aback by the gentle act.

"I'd rather lose _Scarlet_ than lose you."

The way Jacqueline spoke suggested she had only come to this conclusion recently. She hadn't yet reached confidence in it, though she did not question it.

"Can this work?" the tiny woman was hesitant in asking a question she truly didn't know the answer to and she looked at her lap to avoid rejection.

"Look at me."

When wet, brown eyes met steely, ice blue, she found her answer.

Jacqueline leaned in and kissed the writer. It was measured, careful. She hummed when it was met with an equal sense of concern and trepidation. When their lips parted, each exhaled in relief and understanding.

"I can't tell you how, but this will work if you want it to."

Jane opened her eyes.

"Do you have the boys tonight?" she whispered.

Shaking her head with a barely perceivable smirk, Jacqueline awaited what she hoped would be an invitation.

"Come home with me."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't an invitation, necessarily. It was a spoken acceptance of shared desire. It was an affirmation of their feelings.

"Yes."

Jane smiled and stood from the couch. Jacqueline didn't know what the woman had in mind and waited for an explanation.

"I'm grabbing Oliver. I have an idea."

Jacqueline watched the fiery writer disappear out the door. She couldn't help but smile.

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

"You aren't going to tell me what you and Oliver devised? All he would say was that you are scrappy," Jacqueline ran her hand through her now messy hair, hair she had clearly done this to repeatedly throughout the stressful day, as she watched the smaller woman on the bench seat next to her.

"Scrappy, huh?" Jane chuckled. "A perfect name for a dog."

Jacqueline was now giving a very curious look to the girl who was obviously deflecting.

"I don't want you to know about it until it works. If it doesn't work, it won't matter and tomorrow we will regroup and try something else."

Taking Jane's hand, she met her driver's eyes in the rearview mirror. He nodded ever so slightly, asserting his devotion and loyalty to her. He adored this woman, enjoyed her children and would never do anything that might compromise their privacy or safety. He realized that providing safety was now a more prevalent part of his job.

"You aren't expecting anyone tonight?" Jacqueline asked.

"Did you not hear about the gala Richard and Sutton were attending tonight?" Jane asked in mock shock, rolling her eyes.

The editor laughed. Everyone had heard about the gala. Sutton hadn't shut up about it. The biggest fashion designers in the country would be there. Richard had no idea what he was in for.

"And Kat?" came the next question.

"Finding herself."

Jane's brevity was unlike her.

"Can I ask what happened?"

"She's Kat. Taking time to reflect on who she is and who she wants to be is a requirement."

"It must be difficult losing an election. Not to mention having her ex-girlfriend back in the _Scarlet_ family. There is something else, though, isn't there?" Jacqueline could ferret out these things.

"She fell for her campaign manager," Jane said, not wanting to give away too much. It was not her story to tell.

"Ah, I see," Jacqueline pursed her lips. "And now Adena is back and she is torn."

"You could say that."

Jane watched as Jacqueline tilted her head back and smiled. She marveled at the older woman's strong jawline, delicate neck and upper chest. The desire to trace all three with her tongue entered the front of her mind.

"What?" Jane squeezed the hand in hers.

"I was thinking how nice it would be to take a step back to find oneself. To be pulled between two people and have the ability and the time to say no to both."

"You weren't pulled between two people in your twenties? No counter to Ian's charms?" Jane spoke.

"No, I can't say I was," Jacqueline was clearly over Ian's charm. "You went through this very thing recently with Dr. Ben and Mr. Decker."

Shaking her head at the absurdity of it, the writer tipped her head back and stared at the town car's interior.

"That would make a terrible band name, by the way," she was attempting to be light, but the sigh that followed her words betrayed her sadness.

"What is it?" Jacqueline turned in the seat as best she could in her pencil skirt.

"You know how they say on paper something is perfect?" Jane asked. "That was Ben. Actually, Ryan, too, but definitely Ben. He was perfect."

Jane didn't miss Ben, but she remained sad that she had hurt him.

"When did it end between the two of you?" Jacqueline couldn't quite place where or when she had last seen the doctor.

"The day I came home from Paris." Jane's words were clipped.

They both lost themselves for a moment in thoughts of what the Paris fashion week had meant to their careers and their personal lives. Jacqueline was also considering how distracted she must have been to not notice a breakup or the lack of attention Jane was receiving.

"Here we are. I am on shift tonight. Call anytime," the driver's voice had pulled them back, their thoughts abandoned.

"Thank you. Have a good night."

Jane was out of the car before the driver could get to the door to open it. She was rummaging through her purse for keys while Jacqueline accepted the hand of the driver and gracefully exited the car.

"Jane."

The writer finally looked up, realizing the car was gone and she had been fidgeting with her keys. She dropped the keys. The editor acted fast and caught them before they hit the ground.

Taking a step toward the brunette, her lithe fingers fingering the keys, she reached for Jane's hand. She looked into expressive eyes.

"We can sit on the couch and drink wine," the woman assured Jane.

Understanding why this was being said, Jane shook her head and allowed Jacqueline to unlock the door and lead the way. She wasn't conflicted about being alone with this woman, no, she relished it. She was still thinking about Paris.

"Jane? Tell me about Paris." Jacqueline, too, was thinking about the City of Light. She had set her bag on the chair, slipped out of her shoes and found a seat on the couch.

"Is red okay?" the brunette asked as she walked to the kitchen. When she didn't get an answer, she assumed it must be. She opened a bottle and brought it and two glasses to the coffee table. "What?"

Jacqueline was giving Jane a look.

"Something happened in Paris."

Jane didn't respond to the statement. She wouldn't deny that many things happened in Paris. Many things happened after Paris, too.

"Does it have to do with the piece you wrote challenging Safford and the offer from Mr. Decker?" she took the offered glass of wine.

Sitting on the couch with her legs pulled up under her, knees touching Jacqueline's thigh, Jane shook her head, a rather unclear expression given the question.

"I didn't tell Ben about Ryan's offer before the piece ran. He didn't learn it from me and that was awful of me. Nothing was going on with Ryan and I at the time, he was simply appreciative of my encouragement with his novel. There had been flirting. Nothing more. Explaining this to Ben was delicate."

"Ben was angry when he read the piece."

"No, actually," Jane stared into her glass.

"Then why did it end?" the blonde's eyes had followed Jane's to the rich red liquid in the glass.

"Mmm..." she finally looked up and found those blue pools of compassion. "I impulsively got on a plane to Paris."

"Yes, for fashion week."

Jane looked over her shoulder toward the kitchen as she measured what she wanted to reveal. She took a breath and looked back at a curious and somewhat confused Jacqueline

"To get to you."

The editor-in-chief of a magazine for women didn't need those four words defined further.

"I see," she responded.

The brunette had no idea what to say.

"I was surprised when you texted to ask if I could meet you in the lobby of the hotel. I had no way of knowing you were in Paris. You were adamant about my printing your article. It didn't occur to me that it could be anything else."

Jacqueline's hand was on Jane's shoulder and her eyes never left those deep, brown truth-tellers.

"I hadn't realized it was anything else when I was on the plane to Paris. It took it being pointed out to me. Kat said I'd left for Paris to avoid the two kind and generous offers from Ben and Ryan. She said I was avoiding not only choosing which offer was best, but also which of them was. But Sutton, oh, Sutton," Jane rolled her eyes.

"She knew."

"She asked what the real reason was for my being there. I thought it was the article. She knew better. She asked me what it was that scared me the most when I arrived in Paris. It wasn't that I might lose Ben. It certainly wasn't that I'd miss fashion week. I had nothing to write on the topic. I had nothing to lose by coming to you in person and asking you one more time to print the article. But you…"

"I could lose my position, lose the support of the board," Jacqueline recalled her own fear then.

"You watched me at the party," Jane stated matter-of-factly.

A gentle hand was now playing with brown hair.

"You were breathtaking."

"You seemed distracted," she grasped Jacqueline's hand, holding it still against her jaw, strands of hair tangled between their hands. "Of course you must have been heartbroken at the time."

"The thing is, I wasn't." Jacqueline's voice was lower, serious. "I was angry, but it didn't hurt. It was a relief, in some sense. Though it made me question..."

How the blonde's eyelids fluttered made Jane's stomach flutter in response.

The slight squeeze of her hand spurred Jane on. Letting go of Jacqueline, she silently thanked her choice of outfit that morning. The romper she wore allowed her to straddle Jacqueline's lap. A quick intake of breath by the older woman was followed by lips meeting in a fiery kiss. Manicured fingers splayed across firm cheeks, barely covered by the romper in this position, pulling Jane to her. Jacqueline's hips bucked when the brunette purposely rocked her hips to lower herself into the editor's lap.

"This skirt is not conducive to...this," Jacqueline hummed.

"Then we should get you out of it."

The look the two women shared was one of unadulterated lust. They kissed again, this time sloppily and with roaming hands. Jane's breasts weren't large, but they felt perfect, each individually being palmed by Jacqueline. Their tongues were locked in a mesmerizing rhythm.

"Jane."

Panting.

"Yeah."

"I chose this skirt for your eyes this morning," Jacqueline fucking Carlyle winked.

"You are wicked!" Jane chuckled.

Slowly peeling herself off the woman beneath her, Jane stood and pulled her attire down from where it had bunched in her crotch. She held out a hand for Jacqueline who took it, standing.

They made their way to the bedroom. Jane made herself busy picking up laundry and shoes, notebooks and newspaper. Jane's cheeks reddened when she quickly hid away the pink vibrator that was on her nightstand. This made the other woman laugh.

"Sorry," Jane continued to blush. "I wasn't expecting anyone when I left for the office."

Jacqueline could do nothing but smile at the sight. This was the Jane she had always been curious to know.

Turning back to find blue eyes glued to her every move, Jane was extremely turned on. The undressing of Jacqueline with her eyes began in earnest.

"I didn't anticipate this when I chose this restrictive skirt this morning," Jacqueline was frustrated as she tried to unzip the skirt and pull it down while still looking sexy. "I assumed your eyes would be on me with it on."

Having taken steps toward Jacqueline, Jane was about to close the remainder of distance when a commotion at the front of the apartment. The door slammed closed and keys could be heard dropping on the console.

"I can't do this," Kat whined from the entry. "This finding myself thing is bullshit!"

_To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's note: Sorry, not sorry for the cliffhanger. -dkc_

Kat's sudden entrance made the brunette's face instantly cherry red. Her head dropped in embarrassment and disappointment.

"I am _so_ sorry. She said she was busy tonight. I really thought we'd be alone."

Jacqueline put a finger underneath Jane's jaw and tilted her head up to look at her embarrassed face. She gave a forgiving, bemused smile.

"It's okay," she whispered. "I promise. But you better give me a rain check. You also better zip me back up."

Jane's face lit up and she smirked. She did as she was told. The older woman then adjusted her skirt. Jane's eyes watched closely as the blonde straightened her blouse. Jacqueline left Jane to catch her breath. It would also allow her a moment to return to a skin tone a bit less crimson. Jacqueline stepped into the kitchen and leaned against the counter right as Kat rounded the corner. Kat's eyes got wide.

"Jacqueline!"

The frazzled woman nearly dropped the bottle of whiskey she had in one hand and the pint of ice cream she had in the other. She was definitely not expecting her boss.

"Whiskey and ice cream," the blonde smiled, nodding to the items. "A combination from the gods."

At that moment Jane walked out of her bedroom. She had given her face time to cool down. Luckily, she had realized her clothing also needed smoothing after climbing atop Jacqueline on the couch. She greeted her best friend with a smile, sizing up the items in Kat's hands.

"I didn't know you had company. I should have texted first," Kat shook her head.

"Don't be silly, Kat," Jacqueline spoke before Jane had a response. "It looks and sounds like you could use some Jane time."

"I could say the same about you," Kat teased.

"We were going to open another bottle of wine," managed to rebound.

The writer was impressed with Jacqueline's ability to come up with an explanation of what they were doing when Kat walked in, though she recognized this wasn't something she needed to hide. Definitely not from Kat. She was trying to prevent the awkward conversation that would come later, as if this wasn't awkward enough.

"It's been that kind of day," Kat sympathized with Jacqueline's day, too.

"You clearly need something stronger than wine," the blonde moved toward the cupboards and began opening one after another looking for a tumbler. "Let's get you a drink and then I'll get out of your hair."

"Don't leave, Jacqueline," Kat felt terrible for intruding.

"You could stay and join us as we solve the world's problems," Jane looked at Jacqueline with frustration. "Have some more wine. Or I'm sure Kat will share her whiskey and maple ice cream."

"Maple is an excellent choice. It pairs well," the editor remarked.

"Come sit down," Jane brushed the older woman's hand as she moved toward the living room.

Taking a seat in the side chair, Jacqueline watched as Kat walked into the kitchen to grab three spoons. She couldn't see her boss wink at Jane or the suggestive look that was returned. She also had no notion of the relief her best friend felt that Jacqueline had chosen to sit separately. The desire to touch the blonde at every opportunity would have been excruciating.

"You guys have no idea how hard it is to find yourself in all the noise of the world."

"You underestimate yourself, Kat. Attempting to find yourself takes courage. It also shows a great deal of maturity. Answers are hard to come by amidst the excess and distraction of our times. It takes courage to ask. And its admirable, particularly given the outcome of the election," Jacqueline offered, unprovoked.

Jane smiled at how easily this amazing woman could slide into a role of cheerleader and, she dared say, friend.

"I definitely need time," Kat handed the refilled wine glass over to the editor and handed a spoon to Jane as she took the lid off the ice cream. "I had no idea how badly I wanted to win until I lost. You'd think I'd have felt more competitive."

Jane had taken a bite of ice cream when she reached for Kat's glass to take a sip. Her eyes met Jacqueline's over the glass.

"And Tia," Jane spoke, softening her tone as to not make it sound like an accusation.

Looking at Jacqueline and shaking her head, Kat explained how she ended up wildly attracted to Tia. She was exploring this while also being at the helm of an upstart, populist campaign. It was overwhelming and a dizzying rollercoaster. Tia's brilliance and beauty were a one-two punch.

"Baby gays are adorable," Jane teased, bumping shoulders with her friend. "Kat was."

"I dare say she still is," Jacqueline offered a smile and nod at Kat who blushed.

Jacqueline found herself thinking about Jane's experiences and whether had they ended up in her bed a bit ago if it would have been her first time with a woman. It had been a long time since Jacqueline had to even consider this with paramours. But Jane was more than that. She wondered if she would have walked away from _Scarlet_ years ago had she not had Jane to challenge, push and, yes, stare at.

"I don't think what I am going through has anything to do with sexuality. Surely everyone goes through this struggle."

Kat swallowed the remaining whiskey and held her glass out to Jane to refill. She took another bite of ice cream, leaned forward for the other spoon and handed both the pint and spoon over to Jacqueline. The editor was surprised to be so easily accepted.

"Umm...can I talk about Adena if you've now hired her?" Kat furrowed her brow.

Having taken two bites of ice cream, the editor handed the container back and cleared her throat.

"I will assume whatever you say has nothing to do with her ability to do her job."

Jacqueline was looking at Jane as she spoke, there was something in her words that applied to the two of them. Jane knew that her own work was not compromised by her feelings for Jacqueline. Quite the opposite had always been the case. She fought harder, pushed herself to her limits, all because she wanted to please her boss.

"That's the thing. She's so great at her job. I'm sure she was nothing but professional with the Dolan photo shoot. She's incredible," Kat sighed.

"She was outstanding," Jane felt like a hypocrite for saying it as she has been resistant to the idea in the beginning, not because she wouldn't do a fantastic job, but out of loyalty to Kat. Adena had broken her best friend's heart in Paris. In fact, Sutton was the only one of the three who came home from Paris happy and attached.

"I can't help but think what might be if Paris had gone differently."

Jacqueline's sparkling blue eyes found Jane's and they acknowledged that Paris was a story that had not been fully told yet. All Jacqueline had said was that Ian had fallen out of love with her and left. She hadn't invited him to Paris. Jane hadn't elaborated on the breakup with Ben or what conclusions, if any, she had come to about Jacqueline.

"Do you think you would have agreed to the council race?" the editor asked sensitively.

"No."

She threw back the remaining amber liquid in her glass and this time didn't hand it over to Jane for a refill.

"Would she have come back with you, do you think?" Jane wondered. She had often wondered what Adena would have done had she picked Kat over her career. "Was she not happy here?"

"How much can you ask of another person? Must they give up what they love? Should you ask that they support you in what you want to do? What about their dreams? What is too much sacrifice?" Kat wondered and then rolled her eyes. "I know, I've had way too much time to think."

"You can't forget yourself, Kat," Jane assured her. "You have dreams, too."

"I know, I know."

Jacqueline watched the interaction between the two best friends and smiled. She missed the days of having someone in her life that knew her intimately and would tell her when she was being irrational or dramatic. Ian was once that. Her job brought her many acquaintances and though some of them were lovely, they weren't friends. They were interested in her as the editor-in-chief of _Scarlet_ not as Jacqueline Carlyle the woman.

Releasing a long sigh, Kat held out her glass once again and eagerly awaited a refill. Jane did as she was asked though she knew Kat well enough to know she would regret this come morning. They all had to be back at the office in under eight hours now. Kat would curse that whiskey when those eight hours were up.

Kat would eventually get quite animated talking about the campaign, the more whiskey she had consumed, the more she carried on about the people she had met. Eventually her eyes filled with tears when she spoke of two girls she had met who loved her hair and thought she was a superhero.

"Okay," Jane said, taking the glass from Kat. "You've had enough. You can thank me in the morning for stopping you, though I am sure you will blame me for not cutting you off sooner."

Kat shook her head before tipping forward on the couch and catching herself with an outstretched hand toward the coffee table.

"Let's get you something to sleep in and you can have Sutton's bed," Jane was up and putting the drinks aside.

"I'm sorry, you guys. I ruined your evening and now I'm a mope."

"You did no such thing," Jacqueline said as she finished firing off a text to her driver and stood to take the glasses from Jane to carry them to the kitchen.

When Jane came back through from the bedroom with pajamas in hand, she mouthed an apology to Jacqueline as their eyes caught. Jacqueline was gracious enough to shake her head as if this was not one of the odder nights out she had experienced in a while.

Kat had nearly fallen asleep on the couch while the two women were out of the room. Jane startled her when she returned.

"Why don't you go get changed, Kat. There's a new toothbrush in the drawer. I'll show Jacqueline out while you're getting ready for bed," Jane was trying to be gentle with Kat's feelings despite being disappointed the evening wasn't ending at all as she had hoped.

"I'm sorry, Jacqueline," Kat groaned.

"Don't give it another thought," she smiled. "Get some rest. I promise things will look brighter soon. Goodnight."

Jane helped Jacqueline gather her things and followed her slowly to the front door.

"This was not what I had in mind for tonight," Jane sighed.

Before Jane could utter an apology, Jacqueline's lips were on hers. The kiss was firm, but sweet. There was a touch of mystery in it.

"What was that for?" Jane felt her face reddening.

"For being an amazing, loyal friend. And for allowing me to see this part of you up close. You both were very welcoming."

…

_I am really very sorry_, Jane typed. _I should have warned Kat I had plans tonight._

Her phone dinged quickly with a reply.

_It was last minute. While not how I imagined we would be spending our evening, I do understand and I ended up having a lovely evening._

Jane groaned aloud knowing Kat was too far gone in the other room to wake. The night wasn't how she had imagined, either.

The writer typed, deleted, typed again. She was terrified to hit send on nearly every message she composed.

Jacqueline knew her well enough to intervene.

_Life happens, Jane. We have people in our lives that need us. That doesn't mean we can't need each other as well._

Taking a deep breath, the writer felt butterflies and didn't want to, but felt unexpected tears form.

_You need me?_

_I wish I could hear your voice to properly read your tone_, Jacqueline said.

A beat later came the text that would push the tears from Jane's eyes.

_But yes. I need you. I've needed you for years in varying capacities. I have needed your presence in the office to get me through the day. I've enjoyed the challenge of guiding your curiosity. When we spar, I am exhilarated. Lately? I've relied on your support and have come to crave your presence._

_I crave you_, Jane hit send this time without a second thought.

_Yes, that, too._

Jane could almost hear the satisfied chuckle from a city borough away. She felt warm from her toes to her nose, hot in various places in between. It was mind boggling how much had changed in a short few weeks. While she preferred not to think of Paris at well after midnight, this feeling she had in her stomach was what she had hoped Paris might bring. It didn't, but it was a necessary part of her evolution from Jane the intern to Jane the writer and Jane the writer to Jacqueline's lap dog and, finally, the lap dog to she who wished to be straddling that lap.

_I'll see you at the office tomorrow?_ Jane reluctantly typed knowing they both had to sleep and this conversation needed to be put on hold.

_Of course. And Jane? Whether whatever you tried today works or not, thank you._

Jane hoped like hell her plan worked.

_You're welcome_.

_Do you think I'll need to do damage control with Kat?_

Jane smiled at how well the editor-in-chief knew the personalities of her staff.

_She'll likely be mortified. It will pass._

_She has nothing to be embarrassed about. Tonight was bound to be awkward in one way or another_, with Jacqueline's words came fresh imagery of how close they had been to getting each other naked.

_I would like another chance._

In her bed in Manhattan, the older woman smiled at this and knew that there would be no question about it. There would be plenty of chances.

Jane didn't need an answer from Jacqueline to go to sleep that night knowing this wasn't her only chance.

_To be continued..._


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Bold Type_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to Freeform. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

Author's note: I totally forgot this story was ongoing. I am so sorry for the handful of you who were waiting. -dkc

Kat, Sutton and Jane were making their way up the escalator to the _Scarlet_ offices when they saw Andrew struggling with a cart of newspapers, magazines and the morning's coffee run.

"Hey, Andrew!" Kat reached him first. "You got an extra one there for this girl with a hangover from hell?"

Kat was wearing her shades in the building and had dressed in whatever Jane had of hers and anything else she could snag from her tiny friend that she could actually fit into.

"No, I don't need any help. Thanks for asking," Andrew's sarcasm had an oddly positive tone to it.

"What's up?" Sutton stepped forward and demanded from the assistant.

"Jacqueline demanded I bring back all the dailies while I was out—newspapers, trades, tabloids. I even grabbed the weeklies that hit today. All while doing the coffee run," he pouted.

"Oh, shit!" Jane groaned.

"What is it? Pamela Dolan?" Sutton whipped her head around to Jane. "What did I miss?"

Kat took her shades off and looked at Jane with expectant eyes.

"Did it work?" Kat asked.

"Did what work?" Sutton was still confused.

"Andrew, I'll take the cart from you and leave you to the coffee run."

It wasn't a question. Jane drove the cart onto the elevator and was gone before Andrew could object.

"She doesn't even know where to return the cart!"

Kat burst out laughing at the sight of the tall assistant stomping his foot like a child while maintaining a tower of stacked, full coffee cups. The look he gave her would have killed a lesser woman.

…

"Jacqueline!"

The small brunette pushed the glass door open and rolled into the office nearly out of breath.

"Where's Andrew?" the editor-in-chief stood.

Out of her chair, Jacqueline moved to the door and held it as Jane pushed the cart the rest of the way into the office. With the door closed safely behind the writer, Jacqueline rolled the items toward the couch area and gestured for Jane to sit. Having not seen any of the publications yet, Jane was tense. She was more than tense. She felt like everything from _Scarlet's_ reputation to Jane's…relationship…with Jacqueline would be determined by what the blonde said next.

"You are brilliant!" the editor was beaming with pride, newspaper in hand.

"I'm…" Jane wasn't expecting praise.

"How did you do and Oliver pull this off?"

When Jane devised the plan, she honestly didn't think it would work. However, she wasn't expecting for it to happen this quickly. In fact, when she woke up that morning she had immediately gone elsewhere in her head. She relived every moment she and the gorgeous woman beside her shared prior to Kat interrupting them the night before. Waking Kat and getting them both out the door on time took her mind away from even her memories. It wasn't until she saw Andrew that she remembered what had been set in motion the day before.

"It was all Jane." Oliver said from the cracked office door. "She put together the list of contacts and I helped make calls."

Jacqueline waved him in and moved on to the tabloid stack.

Jane looked between the two of them and followed suit when they each started reading. She kept glancing at Jacqueline whose facial expressions as she read were nearly as telling as the words on the page. She seemed pleased. Relieved, maybe?

_Holy shit_, Jane thought. _This might have worked_.

Flipping through the _New York Times_, Jane found the byline she was looking for. It was the reporter that Kat knew, the one who had tipped them off to Ian Carlyle's extracurricular activites. The article was hard hitting and exposed Pamela Dolan for the abuse inflicted on her models and for her _ad hominem _attacks on a respected long-time editor. There was a line that sounded _exactly_ like Kat had written it even though Jane knew that every writer and editor that she and Oliver had contacted about Dolan was given the same basic set of facts. Kat must have followed up with this writer.

"This is quite the dig, 'it is unbecoming of someone purporting to be a professional to attack another professional—a _true_ professional—in the same business for placing importance on ethics, integrity and humanity,'" Oliver read.

Jacqueline glanced at Jane who noted the presence of tears in the blonde's eyes. The steely blue she had seen there every day in the woman's employ had clouded over with tears of appreciation, relief and humility.

"I…"

Jacqueline was cut off by Jane's shaky voice reading from the _Times_ piece, "'to take on a woman with the respect and reputation of Jacqueline Carlyle, particularly for details in the editor's personal life, is beneath anyone with a closet full of skeletons of their own. To use someone's personal life to more or less extort them for a certain outcome is despicable.'"

Oliver nodded his bald head in the direction of the bullpen where, through the spotless glass, the entire staff was glued to one device or another scrolling through the dozens of stories that had appeared in print, online and everywhere the story of Pamela Dolan abusing her models could be shared. Each story was two parts. The first was the story Jane and Jacqueline had attempted to write in the beginning that outlined the history of abusing models. The second part was how Pamela Dolan had threatened the magazine, the editor and the writer who tried to publish it. Her dirty tactics had been revealed. Every article came with some editorializing, but across the board they eviscerated Pamela Dolan. Many of them went out of their way to make it clear in not so many words how unacceptable it was for Dolan to try to plant stories about Jacqueline's failed marriage and personal life as a way of killing the story. Unfortunately, too many of them had received threats for their own work over the years. They understood what Jacqueline was experiencing.

"You guys need to see these numbers!" Kat barged into the office. "I've never seen this much traffic across platforms. They are reading the editor's note from Jacqueline, but they are also leaving heartfelt messages, some about their own experiences with abuse in the workplace. It's incredible."

"Come on in, Kat," Jacqueline smiled at the enthusiastic social media whisperer for the sunglasses she had on in the building as well as for the way she had welcomed herself to the discussion. "Rough night?"

Kat looked up at Jacqueline then to Jane and back to her boss. She slowly slid the shades off revealing red eyes. Attempting to make the woman feel less embarrassed for the night before, the blonde nodded with understanding for her to continue.

"Snapchat, Insta, Facebook, Twitter…" she handed her tablet over to the editor who slipped her reading glasses back on and flipped through the various pages of analytics. Her eyebrows rose with each number she saw. She was stunned. They were receiving huge numbers of traffic from each of the outlets that had printed the story.

Taking her glasses off, the boss handed the tablet back.

"I don't have words that are enough to thank the three of you."

"Oh, I didn't—" Kat was cut off by Jane's voice.

"'Jacqueline Carlyle is a fierce and unabashed feminist. She brings that fierceness to being editor of the most beloved women's magazine in the country, but even more importantly, she brings it for her numerous female employees who have looked to her for their professional and personal development. Her brand of feminism is as necessary for women as it is men. To attack the family she has built, a family with two young boys she is teaching to treat women with dignity and respect, all to keep your own secret of being anathema to those very principles deserves to be called out by every person who respects and values what Ms. Carlyle does.'"

The tears that had been pooling in Jacqueline's eyes had begun to fall down her cheeks as Jane finished reading.

Kat dropped her chin and looked at her feet before looking back up at the woman who had gone to bat for her more times than she could count. She knew the angle had her name written all over it. And nobody else would have been brave enough to mention the Carlyle's kids.

"I may have put in my two-cents…" she blushed

"Thank you, Kat."

The editor stood and hugged her in appreciation. When Kat's eyes started getting misty, Oliver groaned.

"Do not start or I will start and I haven't even had my second cup of coffee yet," he made his way to the door, turning back to point at Jacqueline. "You can thank me by being my date to the fundraiser for the Y's women and children's center. Next Friday night. Black tie. I don't require a limo."

Jacqueline laughed as Oliver exited the office and disappeared to his. That laugh had been missing for too long in this office.

"I'll leave you two," Kat winked at Jane once her back was turned to the boss.

Kat's departure left the two women in a quandary. How to have the conversation and interaction they wanted to while dozens of sets of eyes were in the bullpen. Their time on the couch recently had been reserved for late nights without prying eyes.

"I don't know how I will ever repay you, Jane," Jacqueline turned her body to squarely face the woman on the other end of the couch.

"I didn't think it would work. I thought people would be too afraid to take the risk."

When Jane shrugged, Jacqueline reached out for her hand and took it without any concern for who saw them.

"To realize that if other publications printed the story as a bloc she couldn't come after us was truly inspired."

"What can I say? It's easy to find inspiration when you're fighting for someone as remarkable as you, Jacqueline," Jane was bashful in a way she hadn't been when they'd been alone the night before.

"I wish our surroundings were different," the editor had dropped her voice, both the volume and the tone.

Scooting over and making sure Jane's body was turned enough to block anyone who might be watching them, Jacqueline placed her hand on Jane's thigh.

"I'd love to pull you into my arms, whisper my thanks while pressing a kiss behind your ear then down to your jaw, before finally kissing you deeply, appreciatively."

Jane felt her heart rate increase. She felt the warmth of Jacqueline's hand through her skirt. She knew her breathing had changed. The older woman recognized each of those things for what they were. She slowly removed her hand, not wanting to make what she was about to say any worse.

"I need you to go back to your desk. Not because I don't want you here, I very much do."

"It's the 'very much' that is the problem, isn't it?" Jane understood. She wasn't surprised to see Jacqueline nod her head.

"Can I see you tonight?" the blonde wondered.

"You don't have to ask."

Standing and smoothing her skirt, Jane felt those icy eyes roaming her body and she had to do everything in her power to control her breathing.

"Will Kat be stopping by?" Jacqueline smirked.

"I will be shouting from the rooftops that I am unavailable tonight," Jane shook her head at how ridiculous their prior evening had gone.

Jacqueline walked Jane to the door, reaching for the handle, stopping before pulling it open for the writer. The tears had started to form again and she had paused. She closed her eyes tight, a few tears sneaking out the corner of her eyes to grace her perfectly rouged cheeks. When she opened them, she had a firmer grip on her emotions. She shook her head before bringing her eyes to Jane's.

"Thank you, Jane. I don't think you will ever know what today has meant to me."

Attempting to keep her own emotions in check, Jane spoke with immense love and sincerity: "Defending you was an honor."

She left the office knowing additional tears were shed. She wiped a few of her own before sitting down next to Alex to get to work.

_To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note: Thanks to those of you have stuck with this story and those who have commented. I'm anticipating one more chapter. –dkc_

"Hi."

It was a single word and yet it held an entire dictionary. The fierce blue gaze had looked her over, warmth touching her where those eyes grazed. Her heart beat furiously. Her hands were clammy. And she couldn't help but lick her upper lip.

"Jane."

It was the second word that set their night ablaze.

The smaller woman had reached for the blonde's hand and pulled her with one tug through the doorway into the apartment. A long leg in an impossibly tall heel pushed the door closed behind them.

"Oh," a surprised, but throaty response was all the writer needed.

Jane and all of her five-foot frame pushed the editor up against the door. Her mouth was on the blonde's. Jane's hands were all over her, too. She noted the lack of bracelets on Jacqueline's wrists. Those bare, toned arms—arms that excited her when she thought of them wrapping her up—were intoxicating. Her hands found shoulders, neck and jaw before slipping through blonde locks.

Jacqueline was surprised by Jane's intensity and possessiveness. She had been the alpha in far too many relationships because men, primarily, found her intimidating. Jane may find her intimidating as the editor-in-chief, but as just Jacqueline she wanted to consume her.

"I love when you wear your hair slicked back," Jane growled into the older woman's ear. "Even more now that your hair is longer."

"You do, do you?" she grabbed the writer by the hips and pushed off the door with her backside. "Bedroom."

Doing her best to walk backward while dragging the taller woman with her, Jane stumbled over a shoe she hadn't realized was in the hallway. The strong arms she was enjoying moments earlier now caught her. Jacqueline's breasts were level with Jane's face. The low cut of her shirt made for easy access and the writer took immediate advantage. She went to work kissing, licking and sucking on skin there, all that the lacy bra beneath afforded her. Holding tight to the credenza, Jacqueline was fully enjoying the attention.

"Fuck!" the editor gasped when a talented mouth was able to pry a nipple from its covering, sucking it with aplomb.

"Mmm…" the hum from Jane's mouth against Jacqueline's nipple drove the woman wild.

Manicured fingers were firmly on the sides of Jane's face tilting her gaze up. Dark, wild eyes were joined by a demanding tone in the blonde's voice.

"Bedroom."

There was no denying Jacqueline Carlyle what she wanted twice. The brunette let go of the nipple with a pop, stood to her full height, turned on her heel and made her way to the bedroom leaving the woman who had demanded exactly that standing speechless as she watched. She slipped out of her Louboutin heels and padded her way to the bedroom. She stopped at the French doors and admired the sight before her. Jane had slipped out of her skirt and pulled off her top. What she had been wearing beneath her attire had left little to the imagination. The older woman looked her up and down.

"Get in here then," Jane's voice had turned to velvet.

"Oh, Jane," the blonde stepped closer, her eyes having enveloped the hardly dressed woman before her. "You are glistening."

It was true. The hallway activity and arousal alone had left beads of sweat on her skin.

"You need less clothing."

Tiny hands went to work on one item of clothing after another, taking care to respect the zippers and buttons and not tossing the clothing aside haphazardly. Jacqueline noted how so much care had gone into something as simple as undressing her. It was both appreciated and sensual.

"Before I take this off—" Jane pulled on one of the editor's bra straps. "You have to know that once I see you naked, I will never be able to see you in the office without undressing you in my mind."

Reaching behind her, Jacqueline released the clasp of her bra and then slowly removed the garment herself.

"Oh, god."

The stunning sight caused Jane's mouth to water and her jaw to drop. It only took a beat before her mouth was all over Jacqueline's chest.

The blonde placed a hand on the nearest shoulder to steady herself and the other tangled in Jane's hair.

"Jesus!" the cry from Jacqueline stopped the writer's hands and mouth. She worried she'd done something wrong.

"Oh, shit!" Jane popped her head up and looked apologetic and worried. "I wasn't too rough, was I?"

"Babe, no, definitely not," Jacqueline pulled her close. "God, no, not at all."

"I was afraid I had..." she dropped her head and worried her lip.

"Jane, look at me. Please?"

Eyes marked a path from sparkling red toenails to a silk slip up to a bare chest that had a sheen from Jane's own saliva all the way to a beautiful neck the writer had fantasized about more than once to the cerulean eyes that had offered their support, respect, concern and even lust.

"There she is," the editor smiled. "You can do nothing wrong. If you haven't figured that out with me before now, you haven't been paying attention."

The small woman smiled bashfully.

"You aren't going to hurt me. I am not porcelain. Far from it."

"It's just..." she didn't want to mention what had once happened to Jacqueline, but she couldn't avoid thinking about it.

"I trust you, Jane. I trusted you with my story. You are one of the few I've trusted as my marriage has fallen apart. I've never trusted a writer to come into my home or to spend time with my boys. But it's greater than that. I've trusted your discretion. I've trusted you to not break my heart. I trust you. With all of it."

Jane had tears in her eyes.

Jacqueline took charge and kissed Jane. It was gentle. It was sensual. It was patient. It was loving. Slowly it became more. It became passionate. That room was all that existed. They had lost all worry and wanted for nothing more than the moment with each other.

When calm, conscientious fingers removed Jacqueline's slip and panties, she felt tears well in her own eyes. This was unlike anything she had experienced before.

_This is what being worshipped feels like_, she thought to herself.

It was their bodies coming together that left Jacqueline truly breathless. She hadn't felt another bare body against hers in far too long. She couldn't remember the feeling ever being charged to this degree.

The proximity to the bed had been an afterthought until their legs hit it and they not very gracefully fell on to it. The landing gave them reason for pause. Their eyes locked. Jane traced the older woman's neck and shoulder while Jacqueline's hand found a petite hip to grasp.

"When did you..."

Even the great Jacqueline Carlyle hesitated to bring up sexuality in this moment. Until recently she didn't have any idea that Jane was truly interested in her. It made her curious about other women.

"Abandon the idea of men?" Jane smirked. "I didn't."

The light from the kitchen that had followed them allowed for the eyebrow raise to be read loud and clear.

"After Ben," she paused. "I started going out with Kat more and meeting new people."

"Women."

"Yes, women."

"But before then..." Jacqueline now paused. "Before that point you were strictly interested in men."

"No, I wouldn't say that, but I wouldn't entertain the idea of doing anything about it."

"I see."

The blonde's hand was now at Jane's lower back as she traced patterns. Catching their breath had turned into catching up on Jane's love life. It had slowed everything down, though not in an unpleasant way. They both wanted to know things about each other that they'd often been curious about but couldn't ask.

"It's funny, when Kat met Adena we had a conversation about which of us would be willing to kiss a woman. Sutton was game. Kat had been wanting to kiss Adena. And I said unequivocally no. I was only into men," Jane's fingers made ringlets of blonde hair.

"I guess I don't understand what changed," the editor was gentle in her curiosity.

"It made being able to look but not touch easier if I ruled out acting on any feelings."

It was finally making sense. There was no denying the amount of looking that had taken place over the younger woman's time at _Scarlet_. Jacqueline knew she was being watched, admired, studied, appreciated and adored. Occasionally she could see it to be more than that. She said nothing. And she did nothing.

"I am well aware of the struggle of not being able to touch," she hummed.

"Something tells me you didn't convince yourself you'd never act," Jane's leg slipped subtly between the long, tan legs she had glanced at often.

A guffaw was hardly Jacqueline's style, but she laughed in a similar way.

"God, no. Not when it came to men or women."

Jane continued to press herself closer, her hand doing much of the work. It had pulled their mouths closer from its spot on the back of Jacqueline's neck.

"When it came to me?" the writer felt a wave of insecurity.

"Let me be clear, nothing with anyone of either sex happened while Ian and I were together."

The moment had come to say something she hadn't revealed to Jane before now.

"The first time I met you I wanted to know you. You were interesting and not yet jaded. I thought you were adorably dedicated," Jacqueline continued.

"Adorable is not what I was hoping for," Jane scrunched up her face.

"Just listen," she was mockingly reprimanded. "As you were around here longer and I got to see more of you, I knew that something was shifting. I wanted a shared moment with you every day. I glanced up from my desk more often. You were my first and only choice when I promoted you to writer because you are incredibly talented and earned it. Then I saw more of you. We talked and shared. I started to realize that I was looking at you. _Really_ looking at you. I was wanting you. But I could never have you. Was I supposed to look at all? Probably not. I had no business being that person. Not as your boss. Not as a woman twice your age. Not as a wife. But I couldn't help myself. I gave permission to myself to look but never touch."

Jane's thigh climbed higher until it found the warm spot that caused the blonde to moan.

"Jacq, I'm going to show you how much it is your business. You can look all you want and you better fucking touch."

The way Jane cursed sent a wave of heat and wetness to Jacqueline's core. She was certain the other woman could feel it. It was not about to be wasted. Diving in for a kiss set off every possible need and want between them. Hands roamed freely, mouths tussled, a thigh remained between parted legs and both were ready for whatever came next.

"God," Jacqueline moaned when their mouths parted and warmth now radiated from Jane's mouth all the way along her neck and shoulder. She couldn't wait. She forced herself downward until she was firmly on Jane's thigh and she slowly began rocking.

"Oh, fuck," Jane moaned.

"I want you," Jacqueline said as she moved in to kiss her hard.

It was all that needed said. Jane took one of the woman's hands and guided it to where they both wanted it. They both gasped at the first touch. Jane could have sworn she simultaneously felt more wetness on her thigh.

"In!" she growled.

"Awfully demanding," Jacqueline chuckled.

The editor did exactly as she was told. They both benefitted. Feeling those fingers fill her up caused Jane's leg to jerk which then hit Jacqueline right where she needed with added pressure. Mouths attached, bodies hummed with desperation and the strong hands that had the knowledge of how to please her were revving Jane up. The slight muscle twitch in the writer's thigh was pleasing Jacqueline in a myriad of ways as she forced herself down on to it before sliding forward and back. She did it again and again. When Jane started moving her leg to meet each movement downward by her boss, the intensity grew. Jacqueline was impressed and grateful. Jane could barely keep attention there while long fingers were sliding, curling, thrusting and giving their own exquisite pleasure.

"Shit, shit, shit..." Jane cried.

"We're almost there, honey," Jacqueline panted.

"I can't..." and Jane went headlong over the blissful edge.

Close behind her came the blonde.

"...wait," Jane whispered.

"Mmm."

They collapsed against one another, adjusting slightly to allow for better holding.

"If I had known this is what it was going to be like to fuck Jacqueline Carlyle, maybe I wouldn't have enforced my strict no touching rule," Jane smiled.

Shaking her head with a smile on her own face, the editor-in-chief found herself happy, truly happy for the first time in quite some time.

"You're really not going to be able to look at me around the office without seeing me naked?" Jacqueline chided.

Jane was still breathing heavily. Her hand found a hip and traced around it until she felt the top of the long line between cheeks.

"Oh, it'll get easier, I'm sure. Don't tell me you won't be thinking about what's under my clothes when you look out your glass door at my desk."

The blonde leaned in and kissed her softly.

"I'm glad we didn't do this before," the older woman spoke.

"Before?" Jane thought she understood but needed to know for certain.

"When either of us was in a relationship and couldn't have truly allowed ourselves to feel it without guilt or shame."

Jane had hoped this was why.

"I agree. Though I would have jumped at the opportunity if it had presented itself. Even if it was only the once," the writer felt her chest tightening at the thought of this being a one-time thing. This isn't, is it?"

"It is whatever we want it to be, my Jane."

Placing her face in the crook of Jacqueline's neck, the smaller woman breathed in the trademark perfume and the scent of sex. The former had become familiar and the latter she only hoped would.

"I assume we have to sign something," she said quietly.

"We do. And the board will want to speak to me about our relationship and when it started," Jacqueline's voice was calm, her heartbeat steady. Jane could feel it at her pulse point. It brought that same calm & steady to Jane who wasn't sure what their relationship was or if it was something Jacqueline wanted.

"It is a relationship, Jane. If you want it, that is."

Pulling back to look directly into those pools of blue that had always had a way of bringing her in, Jane nodded. She felt tears building and she wasn't certain she could contain them.

"When did it start?" she croaked.

Jacqueline reached up to wipe a tear that had got away from Jane.

"When did I start treating you differently than _Scarlet_'s other employees? Day one. When did I start looking at you with desire? I don't really know. Have I given you anything or asked anything of you in exchange for sex or personal favors? No, never. When did our intimate relationship start? A week ago? A week and a half? It depends on your definition of intimacy. But you and I both know it has been an emotional connection for much, much longer."

"God, I..."

Had it been a time other than their first, Jane might have said 'I love you' right then. She did love Jacqueline and had for years in various ways. She was in love with Jacqueline and she recognized that. But now wasn't the time to say any of that. They had to find their footing and figure out how to make this work. What had to be said to the board was relatively simple compared to what had to be said to Kat and Sutton, James and Connor, probably even Ian. People at _Scarle_t would catch on eventually, though Andrew already knew. There was a lot left to determine.

The sound of Jane's phone saved her from having to elaborate. It startled them both in the quiet bubble they'd created for themselves.

"That better not be someone announcing they're on your doorstep," the blonde smirked.

"Should I check?" Jane didn't want to be the person who checks her phone in the middle of something as monumental as this moment.

Jacqueline nodded.

It took a minute for the writer to remember where she had set the phone and then she had to twist herself to reach it because she did not want to let go of the woman in her arms. She swiped the screen to find a text from Kat. She chuckled, earning her a curious look from the blonde. She held out the phone for her to read. _Sooooooo?_ it read.

"You told her?" Jacqueline wasn't terribly surprised that Kat and Sutton would know Jane had intended to take her boss to bed tonight.

"Actually, no. I told them I wouldn't be available tonight. I didn't say anything more than that. Kat must have put it together because of her fabulous timing last night," she shrugged.

"Hey, it's okay for you to tell them. Like I said about Kat, as long as she doesn't think any differently of me and gives me the same level of respect in the office, there isn't an issue. It would bother me if you didn't tell them we spent—" the older woman stopped herself from saying it.

"The night together?" Jane knew.

"I didn't want to assume or overstay my welcome."

Jane's lips suddenly pressed on Jacqueline's. Her hand moved up to the small of the woman's back pulling her closer. Leaning up on her elbow, her other hand was free to grasp a breast, groping and palming. Her fingers turned a nipple between them as her tongue darted into a warm, wanting mouth. The older woman's hand was tangled in brunette strands. When their lungs burned for oxygen, their lips let go. Jacqueline pressed kisses down Jane's neck to her collarbone.

"Yes, stay. Spend the night," Jane panted. "Spend as long as you want, as long as you can."

_To be continued..._


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Note: Thank you for all sticking it out with this story. It's finally coming to an end. I hope its final chapter was as good as its first. –dkc_

Jane and Sutton were drinking at the bar, laughing at something the bartender said when Sutton's eyes narrowed and she nodded her head in the direction of the door. Curious, Jane turned on her stool and found herself dumbstruck. She was truly speechless. Jacqueline Carlyle had entered the bar in the most knock out ensemble of leather jacket, dark-wash jeans and lace-up high heels. What Jacqueline had under her jacket could hardly be called a camisole. In a different light it might have been sheer.

"I think it's safe to say Jacqueline has come out of her shell," Sutton remarked to the totally transfixed writer.

The blonde was making her way to the two friends. She smiled at Sutton, nodding hello before leaning in to kiss Jane on the cheek. They hadn't been out as a couple for long and it hadn't yet been established in which circumstances public displays of affection were appropriate. Sutton's company did not require a second thought.

"Hi," the editor whispered, causing a shiver to travel up Jane's spine.

Sutton stirred her drink with her cocktail straw, smirking at the absolute happiness that radiated off of the two of them.

"What would you like to drink?" the fashion assistant asked her boss.

"Gin and tonic."

Waving over the bartender, Sutton placed the order and scooted over a stool to make room for Jacqueline who joined them as if they'd been doing this for years rather than less than a month.

"Where's Kat?" she asked, accepting the drink as it was made and handed to her. "Thank you."

"She should be here soon. She sat down for an interview with a reporter from _Wired_ after work," Jane's eyes still hadn't left the blonde, though she had gained control of her speech.

"Ah, yes. I forgot. They were wise to contact her. She knows social media better than anyone in the industry. It didn't take long for her to be on their radar."

The three of them sat in silence for a moment. It wasn't uncomfortable so much as new. Jane and Jacqueline had plans for dinner. They were in agreement that having drinks with the girls beforehand would be good for them. Jacqueline was not attempting to become the fourth Musketeer. She wasn't hoping to become buddy-buddy with Sutton or Kat. But she knew that they were Jane's family. She recognized that who she was to them brought the complexity to the situation.

"There she is!" Sutton waved over Kat who surprisingly had Adena with her. "This is an interesting development."

Jane and Jacqueline exchanged an amused look.

"Hey, hey," Kat hugged Sutton, kissed Jane on the cheek and, pausing, smiled before leaning in to kiss Jacqueline on the cheek as well. "Look who I ran into."

It was Jane and Sutton's turn to exchange a knowing look. Kat had been running into Adena more and more. She insisted she was not interested in her ex-girlfriend. Jane and Sutton believed Adena was Kat's one true love. Eventually they would find their way back to each other.

"Hello, Adena. It's nice to see you again," Jacqueline smiled. "What would you ladies like a drink?"

Like Sutton did for her, the older woman took their drink orders, passing them off to the bartender.

"Do you guys have a few minutes? Should we get a table?" Kat asked Jane.

Glancing at the blonde, Jane read the slight wink and smile.

"Yes, of course. You pick."

Jane grabbed her drink, realizing too late that her short legs couldn't quite reach the floor with a simple step down. She ditched her drink in time, but couldn't let it go and grab the counter in a single move. She tipped forward right into leather-clad arms.

"Be careful, Tiny Jane," Sutton smirked at Kat as they watched their boss holding Jane for far longer than necessary.

"Maybe they should card you and ask if you if you're tall enough for the ride before they serve you," Kat teased.

"Shut up. Both of you. And yes, you, too, Adena."

They laughed as they made their way to a booth away from the crowded center of the bar.

"How'd the interview go?" Jane asked Kat as they each slid into a seat.

Jacqueline and Jane slid in first, sitting shoulder to shoulder in the corner of the booth. Under the table the older woman's hand found the brunette's thigh and gave it a loving squeeze. Jane took the blonde's hand in her own, lacing their fingers together. Sutton, sitting next to Jacqueline watched as Kat sat down next to her, opposite Adena. It was obvious in her choice what Kat was trying to do. She was attempting to distance herself from her ex while still being in her company. She was fighting the pull. It was obvious to everyone but Kat.

"The reporter and I were joined by their director of digital media. It was enlightening. They asked what it's like to be both queer and driving queer-targeted media. I thought that was interesting. I don't look at it like that at all. Is _Scarlet_ really targeting demographics separately on queer issues? It doesn't seem that way to me."

"It's a different social media strategy for every demographic, ultimately, right?" Sutton asked.

Adena noticed Jacqueline smiling at the women discussing work. She hadn't been around them since Jacqueline and Jane became a couple. When they announced it to those in the offices of _Scarlet_, she wondered what had taken them so long. For as long as she had known Kat and therefore Jane, she had seen the writer pining for their boss. There were some who thought it explained why Jane had risen so quickly to senior writer, but for those who knew both women it was clear that Jane had worked her ass off for _Scarlet_ and Jacqueline would never give any sort of preferential treatment to an employee because of personal feelings. Adena was happy for the two of them.

After Kat answered Sutton, she looked at the blonde and said they should all take a break from work for the night. Jacqueline nodded her appreciation of this. It was still a bit awkward to talk shop with the boss in their midst.

"When is Richard back?" the older woman asked Sutton.

"This weekend. Thank god!"

"Mama needs some loving," Kat tossed a napkin at her blushing friend.

"Not anymore, she's got an app for that, remember?" Jane joined in.

"An app?" Jacqueline raised an eyebrow.

Sutton covered her face and groaned.

"Remember the sex toys Sage's friends developed? They have one that is connected to an app for long distance partners. Sutton has the vibrator and Richard the phone app that controls it."

Jane felt Jacqueline's hand squeeze hers tightly as she explained the toy.

"Now they have more than FaceTime," Kat added. "_More_, more."

"You guys!"

Sutton was embarrassed by the topic strictly because Jacqueline was there.

"No need for bashfulness on my account, Sutton. Sage gave me a gold vibrator," Jacqueline said nonchalantly.

Jane choked on her drink, coughing excessively. The others burst into laughter. Jacqueline shrugged.

"They make good products," the editor added.

"Apparently I'm the only one at this table that didn't benefit from Sage's friends' entrepreneurship," Adena said.

"Hey, I didn't!" Jane remarked.

"Not yet," Sutton finally got a dig in.

It was Jane's turn to blush furiously.

"Isn't it time for our dinner reservation?" the writer tried desperately to get out of the conversation; Jacqueline wouldn't allow it—she simply shook her head.

They were all laughing at Jane's when the waitress arrived with another round of drinks, winking at Kate as she left.

"Ohhhh my. That was a sultry wink if I've ever seen one," Sutton whipped her head around to look at Kat.

"Don't start. Back to Jane now…"

"Oh, no you don't!" Jane insisted. "It wouldn't be right to not mention the lady killer."

"That's an inappropriate thing to say about your boss, Jane!" Kat poked back.

"Ooooo!" Sutton's mouth fell open as she looked to Jacqueline for a response.

"What can I say?" the blonde shrugged, grinning.

Everyone at the table was in stitches.

"I mean, seriously, if Jane hadn't, surely one of us would have fallen down to worship the goddess Jacqueline Carlyle," Sutton smiled.

Jacqueline shook her head, blonde curls bouncing with each movement.

"I concur."

Adena was the last person they thought would make such a comment about the editor-in-chief. The entire table went silent for a beat before laughter washed over them.

"Jacqueline?" a man's voice broke through their noise.

The blonde seemed to hesitate for a moment before standing and hugging the man.

"Ladies, this is Max Audrey. Max and Ian were college roommates."

Each woman smiled warmly and nodded greetings. Each woman with the exception of Jane. She hadn't been forced to face Jacqueline's life with Ian much, certainly not the Carlyle's friends. She'd become comfortable with the Carlyle kids and even, to a degree, with Jacqueline's mother.

"Max, these are my friends and colleagues. Adena is a photographer; Sutton is a brilliant designer and stylist; Kat runs social media, in fact she was interviewed by _Wired_ magazine tonight; and, Jane… Jane's a senior writer _and_ my girlfriend."

The last word out of the blonde's mouth caught each of the seated women by surprise. Their surprise was not nearly to the level and apparent disdain of Max.

"It's lovely to meet you each. Jane," he nodded to her condescendingly and she smiled, still floored by Jacqueline's ability to define their relationship to someone from her previous life. "It's good to see you Jackie. I'm glad to see you well."

They exchanged cheek kisses and Max disappeared to a table of men. He must have said something to them because they all looked over. Kat gave them a snide little wave.

"He was…" Sutton was at a loss.

"Pompous? Self-righteous?" Jacqueline offered.

"Jealous. How couldn't he be? I've got this beautiful woman and he's got the Brooks Brothers over there to keep him company."

Jane's sincerity said it all.

Jacqueline leaned in, planting a gentle, appreciative and loving kiss on the brunette's lips. The other women smiled broadly at the display.

"You two better get out of here or you'll never make your reservation," Sutton interrupted them.

"She's right," Jane hummed.

"It's been lovely spending time with you tonight," Jacqueline said before standing and holding out a hand to Jane. "Let's do it again soon."

Jane put cash on the table, taking a final drink from her glass before leaving it behind.

"Have a nice dinner," Kat said. "But not _too_ nice. You know what I mean?"

Jane rolled her eyes and swatted at her friend.

The two women took each other's hands, Jane wrapping herself around the taller woman's arm. They were well aware that there were eyes on them. The nearly thirty-year age difference always earned them a look or two. So did their height difference. However, they liked to think it was because they were two gorgeous women together that made people jealously look on.

"Goodnight, ladies. It was lovely to see you Adena," Jacqueline smiled.

After goodbyes were exchanged all around, the two walked confidently through the bar. Neither bothered to look the way of Max and his table. It was a defiant move by two women who were clearly in love and didn't care who else knew it.

"I suspect we'll be spending a lot more time with Mama Jackie," Kat smiled, briefly turning inward and considering what she wanted for her own life. When she looked up, she saw Adena's eyes on her. "And I, for one, am glad about that. It's wonderful that Jane is happy."

"Isn't it? Our Jane is in love," Sutton added.

Three pairs of eyes had followed the two women's path through the crowded bar, smiling.

-_finis_-


End file.
